


Into the Sunrise

by Ghostorgy



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Ambitious Sarada, Dreams as a Narrative Tool, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, Missions Gone Wrong, Older Characters, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protector Boruto, Slow Burn, i guess some angst, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2019-12-25 08:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18257915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostorgy/pseuds/Ghostorgy
Summary: "But most of all, he pretended that he never needed her, not even once. He didn’t need her cunning mind getting them out of countless bad situations Boruto could never fathom solutions for. He didn’t need her to care about if he was eating, or for her to ask when did he last sleep. He definitely didn’t need her to save his life—especially after he promised to be the one doing the protecting."orSarada's ambitions run rampant as Boruto is racked with guilt and trauma over a mission gone wrong. Learning to cope with failure is hard, but it's even harder when feelings get involved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note to all readers:  
> This work is a labor of love, and a creative exercise to keep me writing every day. I love feedback, and would really enjoy anything you have to say. I currently have written around 10,000 words that I finally want to share with the world. I hope that all new readers will enjoy this, and that older readers keep coming back for more!
> 
> This is set when Sarada and Boruto are roughly 17 (implied), on the cusp of becoming Jonin and finally being trusted with their own missions. Sarada is viciously ambitious, and takes her own personal failures to heart. Implied PTSD through flashbacks are used fairly frequently at the beginning of the work to set the context. POV is third person, but the focus flips from character to character every now and then.
> 
> Rated M for eventual sexy :)

Uchiha Sarada watched in awe as the sunset sparkled off of the sky blue eyes of her best friend. He casually threw his arm behind his head and laughed with the carefree lilt she had become accustomed to. She wanted his flock of beaming admirers to thin, and in any other circumstance she would be the one to intervene and thin them out. However, today was different.

Sarada sat on a sandy coloured boulder far enough away from the spectacle that Boruto could not see her studying the face she knew so well. She wondered to herself just what was it that consistently drew people to him, inspiring confidence and love, even if the people barely knew him.

He’d inherited it from his father, she decided. Electric charisma was a weapon, after all. Occasionally, she would become jealous at just how easy it was for him to sway people to his own side. But, Sarada had other gifts. She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, not willing to impose upon his time.

“Hello, Sarada”. The familiar, silky voice of her teammate Mitsuki slithered into her ear. She had not noticed his arrival, but that was one of Mitsuki’s greatest strengths, his stealth, “You’re watching him too.” Mitsuki said.

“Hn.” She responded, and leaned back onto her hands. The sky was a gorgeous combination of orange, pink, and red. Fluffy clouds floated into the picturesque scene casting purple shadows. Sarada had nothing to say to Mitsuki today.

“They love him, don’t they?” Mitsuki chuckled, “He’s the sun.”

Sarada’s eyes flashed open for a half of a second, as she snapped her head back to face the boy with the pale complexion. Although Mitsuki was smart enough to read the agreement painted across her eyes, she would never admit it to Mitsuki’s face.

“Can I help you, Mitsuki-kun?” She asked flatly. 

“Nothing, really. Just observing. I assume I’m doing the same as you.” He responded with a soft smile that crinkled his eyes.

“I’m waiting for that idiot to be done with his fans so that we can get on with our mission debrief.” Sarada huffed.

What was originally Team Konohamaru had just returned from a month long reconnaissance mission to the Land of Waves, which lead to the subsequent locating and arrest of an infamous missing nin. Seemed as though all of Konoha had heard and was praising Boruto as the sole reason, completely forgetting Sarada and Mitsuki’s instrumental roles in tracking the missing nin down. Sarada, multiple times, had to step in and save the blonde chuunin’s life. However, the village didn’t need to know the bloody details.

“He loves all of the attention.” Mitsuki said pointedly. Sarada nodded in agreement. Unfortunately for the pair, they were quite used to Boruto’s natural eclipse of them in the spotlight. That’s just the way it was, and Sarada had long since made her peace with it.

The pair continued their wait, focusing on their sun and the sunset beyond him. Neither of them could decide which was more beautiful.

Eventually, as the sun finished its crescendo in the sky and sank below the horizon, Boruto’s crowd had thinned enough for him to run towards the pair jubilantly. Sarada couldn’t help but notice how the twilight bathed his eyes in a violet light. Once Boruto had reached his teammates, Sarada scowled.

“Dumbass,” she scoffed, “we were expected at the Hokage Complex immediately upon arrival.” She announced, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration. Mitsuki hid a chuckle in his sleeve.

“Sorry, Sarada-chan. I must have gotten carried away!” He announced sheepishly. Sarada looked away quickly. “We’d best get going then.” Boruto continued, and began to lope towards the rounded building in the distance.

 

***

 

It’s not that Boruto didn’t notice Sarada and Mitsuki waiting for him, because although he was easily distracted, he was disciplined enough to sense when someone was staring at him. There was just something, however, inherently different in the way that Sarada looked bathed in the golden glow of the sunset. She was perched ever so elegantly upon a boulder. Her long raven tresses trailed behind her slightly in the breeze, contented expression painted beautifully on her face was something he hadn’t seen in weeks. No, he noticed her gaze, but didn’t want to disrupt it.

For the first time since her saving his life, he felt something in the pit of his stomach when looking at her. And it shocked him.

What was it? Admiration? Gratitude? Pride? Boruto could not simply put the feeling into words.

He shook the confusion away and beamed at Sumire as she fawned over his latest adventure.

“Tell us how you caught him!” Denki begged, glimmer of idolization in his eyes.

Boruto laughed heartily as he threw an arm behind his head sheepishly, “Aw, it was nothing.” He said.

“I want to hear the story.” Iwabe chimed in, as curious as his teammate.

Boruto took a deep breath. A scene from the mission played out in his head.

_Rain splashing on water. The sound of frogs chirping. Humid, cooling nighttime air hung around them heavily. Boruto and Sarada hid silently, breathlessly, covered in mud and leaves. Boruto perched high above on a branch of a tree, camouflaged to the best of his ability. Sarada below, ready to pounce. They were so close, they could taste it. It had been approximately 26 days and 13 hours since their mission had begun, they were hungry, sleep deprived, and hadn’t had a real shower since the beginning of the mission. Their sacrifices were beginning to pay off; finally, they had found the gang rumored to be hiding the missing nin._

_Not only this, but they were going to fight. They found the opening of the cave the gang used as a base of operations, and they laid their trap eagerly. Mitsuki waited approximately 2 miles away, scouting the feeder camp that had been the key to the infamous nin’s escape so many times before. On Sarada’s signal, they would make their move._

_A quick rustle in the trees interrupted the sounds of the humid night the team was so accustomed to. A glint of red caught Boruto’s eyes. Sarada’s sharingan glowed faintly in the night. This was not part of the plan. Something was wrong, Boruto could sense it. The taste of blood coiled up inside of his throat, as a sharp sting caught his lower abdomen._

_“BORUTO” Sarada screamed, throwing their cover to the wind. However, before Boruto had a chance to respond, he was on the ground, under the heavy weight of something he could not identify._

 

“Nah, it’s far too long of a story.” Boruto announced, much to the annoyance of the group of people surrounding him. Iwabe sighed, exasperated.

“You know, if my team got assigned A rank missions, I’d come back with stories for everyone.” Iwabe grumbled.

“I’ll leave the stories to you then!” Boruto laughed. The sun had retreated behind the horizon, bathing the world in the beautiful purple hues that only happened those few minutes after sunset. It was high time he joined up with Sarada and Mitsuki. He waved goodbye to his crowd of admirers, and took off in the direction of his teammates.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time the debrief session and report was complete, it was well into the night. Sarada believed it to be around two, maybe three in the morning. After a month of rationing food supplies, eating at irregular times, and skipping countless meals in the name of the mission, real food sounded like heaven. Sarada felt as though her stomach was eating itself.

The trio exited the historic walls of the Hokage Complex and took in the view. The ever growing village was particularly beautiful to Sarada from this angle. The lights sparkled like gems when it got dark enough, a sight Sarada would never get sick of. She looked up at the twinkling stars, a clear night. It was absolutely perfect. She smiled peacefully, happy to be back in the village she loved. Happy to be back, alive, and safe.

“I’m starving!” Boruto announced, leaving the office of his father with the regular nonchalance. Sarada couldn’t help but nod her head in exhausted agreement, “Should we get something to eat?” He asked, saying what was on everyone’s mind.

“Actually, Boruto, I have prearranged plans at my apartment. Tomorrow,” Mitsuki said calmly, before hopping off towards the horizon. Boruto nodded briskly and turned his gaze to his other teammate.

 “What do you say Sarada-chan? I bet we can find a café that’s still open.”

Sarada wasn’t sure if it was just her stomach speaking, but she eagerly agreed to an opportunity she would normally scoff at. Boruto nodded, and turned to lead the way. The pair walked down the cobblestone streets of the food district, taking in the homely sights of the various shops and cafes turning their lights off for the night. A cool breeze captured the blonde’s hair and pushed it backwards. Sarada caught the scent of it, dirt and sweat with a small hint of leftover, fading shampoo—pine. Sarada chuckled to herself, knowing that Boruto hated to smell less than perfect. Eating before bathing after a mission was highly uncharacteristic for him. She couldn’t imagine that she herself smelled any better though, and craved the kiss of the bath awaiting her in her future.

A full stomach, a bath, a night of rest—anything to help her feel normal again.

 At the end of a particular curved road, a flickering neon sign that read “coffee” illuminated the dark. Looking around, it appeared to be the only business in the food district remaining open into the deep hours of the night.

Boruto shrugged and jogged to open the door for Sarada, “After you!” he said with a grin. He motioned for her to walk through with a quick flourish of his wrist. 

Sarada entered the dimly lit café with a small jingle of a bell alerting the barista of their arrival. Inside, the café was cozy. A small fireplace glowed with golden light, warming the air. The scent of coffee and burning wood tingled in Sarada’s nose. Red brick covered in framed newspaper articles decorated the space. It felt like someone’s home rather than a place of business.

“Welcome!” A warm voice chimed from behind the counter. Sarada went to sit in the corner furthest from the door, staring out the window into the black of night peacefully.

“Granny, would you get us a black tea and a black coffee? And two yakisoba buns!” Boruto asked playfully. He came to join Sarada at the table, pulling out the heavy pillowed chair with ease. He down sat unceremoniously, exhausted from their completed mission. His eyes flashed around the room, searching for threats before returning to the kunoichi in front of him. They were the only two customers filling the space.

“Could you have picked a gloomier spot?” Boruto prodded, teasing her. Sarada rolled her eyes.

“You’re annoying.” She retorted, and looked down at her interlocking fingers. Quickly, and without warning memories of the last time she had called him annoying flooded into her head.

_The smell of blood and rain. A sallow skinned man dead in the mud, his skull cracked. Boruto lay unconscious in the brambles, dark red gushing from his stomach, far too quickly._

_Sarada deactivated her sharingan and jogged to her teammate. Throwing her kunai into the mud, she slipped and kneeled next to him, inspecting his wounds._

_“BORUTO!” She screamed in his face. She picked up his head and dragged him to her lap. Ripping off a bandage from her leg, she wrapped it feverishly around Boruto’s stomach, but it did not stop the spread. Those first bandages were soaked in his blood quickly, and she feverishly wrapped him a second, third, and fourth time._

_“Boruto… you idiot, you’re so annoying.” She sobbed, moving his wet hair off of his forehead. She placed her hands on his forehead, desperately trying to transfer what little chakra she had left to him. But his eyes would not open._

Sarada made a mental note to call him something other than annoying from then on, and shook the memory away.

“Sarada-chan? Are you listening to me?” Boruto asked, peeking up under her glasses.

Crystalline blue eyes peered deep into her. Sarada couldn’t help but notice how masculine he was becoming, as a scruff of stubble she hadn’t spotted before found its home across a relatively defined jawline. A crook in his nose, evidence of a break or two gave his face subtle imperfection that rested well on his features. He was getting tall, too, as he had to hunch in a manner that looked uncomfortable to get the desired angle. Sarada blushed subtly at the proximity, but quickly shook it off, “I’m fine. You’re too close.” She said dismissively, pushing him back.

“Get your hands off of my face” Boruto griped.

“Your face shouldn’t be close enough that my hand can push it away.” Sarada quipped back, huffing.

“You weren’t listening to me!”

This banter was extremely familiar for the pair. Sarada had been tormented by the lack of boundaries from the blonde shinobi since as far back as she could remember.

“You weren’t saying anything interesting.” She responded.

“I resent that!”

Sarada couldn’t help but to smile. If anything felt normal to her, it was arguing back and forth with her best friend. After the mission the pair had just been submitted to, Sarada craved the feeling of normalcy more than she’d ever craved anything in her life.

The pseudo-argument was interrupted by the friendly face of the old barista bringing them their drinks, “You two are quite a pair!” She said with a smile accentuating the crinkling corners of her eyes and cheeks. Boruto and Sarada were used to this assessment by now, however, they both flushed quickly as Boruto quickly threw his hands up.

“N-no it’s not like that,” he said sheepishly, waving his hands to accommodate his protestation.

“Aw, that’s a shame.” She said, setting the steaming hot cups and the pair of buns down before them.

Sarada looked upon her favourite drink in delight, “Thank you very much!” She said, before grabbing the cup and cradling it in both of her hands, as if the porcelain was the most precious material known to man.

The barista bowed deeply, and returned to what Sarada could only presume she was doing before they entered, cleaning the counters dutifully.

The two sat in comfortable silence for a bit, sipping their drinks contentedly. Sarada drank in the atmosphere of the café. She wondered why she had never been before. Above the counter was a chalk board with the menu painstakingly laid out in intricate designs filling the negative space. A globe sat on the corner, more decorative than anything else. Small wrought iron tables filled the space delicately, with small plants non-native to Konoha sat on each of the tables. Adorning the table Sarada had chosen sat a small aloe vera plant, native to Suna. Complementing the aloe, a small orange candle illuminating cheerful light on to their hands as they sat. To their left, the dark coloured fireplace stood nestled among the tables in contrast to the red brick of the wall. Above the fireplace, a shelf lined with an assortment of books sat regally, containing old folk tales to medical handbooks to histories. To their right, a large window Sarada was sure would reveal a pleasant view during daylight hours. It was all exceedingly cozy. Sarada made a mental note to come back again.

“Hey, Sara-chan,” Boruto began tentatively.

Sarada flicked her eyes up at him, curious about what he could possibly want to discuss.

“So, about what happened—“

He was interrupted, “Boruto, please. I don’t want to talk about the mission anymore right now. Can we just enjoy our drinks for a bit?” She said, exasperated.

“Why didn’t you tell my old man?” He pressed anyway, disregarding her request.

Sarada shrugged, “I didn’t think it was pertinent.”

“You of all people should know that all injuries have to be reported.

She sighed, and set her cup of tea down, “Since when do you care about the rules?”

“Since when do you disregard them?” He asked, fairly.

“Nanadaime didn’t need to know, okay? It would be too many questions and I just don’t want to talk about it,” Sarada snapped.

Boruto threw his hands up in protest again and took a gulp of his coffee. He glanced back up with a sincere glint in his eyes, “I just think someone is going to notice the huge ass scar on my abdomen at some point, and ask me why it’s unreported.”

Sarada swallowed hard and locked her eyes on the cup in her hands, “It was the first mission I was captain of,” She said quietly, refusing to look up from her tea.

“Why does that matter?” He asked.

“It just does, okay?” She snapped, urging the conversation to end. A quiver in her voice betrayed her.

Instead of biting back like Boruto typically would, he softened his tone, “Sara-chan...” he trailed, leaving much to be said underneath his words.

She took another deep breath, steadying her voice as best as she can. “Boruto, can we please just not discuss it?”

Something Sarada did not recognize flashed across Boruto’s face as he started to reach across the table for her hand. Before he could touch her, however, she moved her hand away quickly and returned to her tea. Boruto clenched his lightly outstretched hand into a fist and dropped it.

Sarada help the cup close to her face, and finished the liquid in one long draw. She moved to stand up, and tossed a few coins on the table to pay for her drink.

“Wait a second, Sarada, I thought you were hungry?” Boruto asked, motioning at the barely nibbled roll left abandoned next to the empty cup.

“I’m not anymore. Besides, I think you need it more than me.” She replied, with a limp smile. She bid the friendly barista goodnight, and exited the café, once again tasting the crisp evening air on her face as she meandered her way home.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m back.” Sarada announced as she walked into her mother’s home. The smell of miso soup filled the air, combined with something strange. _Tomatoes?_ Sarada thought, and crinkled her nose at the idea, “Why are you cooking so late, Mama?” She asked, dropped her bag and walked into the kitchen where her mother undoubtedly was.

A single overhead light lit up the small space, showcasing the mess her mother had not bothered to clean yet. The stove sat on the opposite wall of the entrance, well used and always slightly off of the reported temperature. Dark wood cabinets lined the walls above granite countertops, hosting various tacks of opened and unopened mail. The refrigerator displayed only one photograph on it, the photo of Sarada and her team when they had first been assigned together. Taking up much of the space was a well-loved kitchen table. The table was sturdy, mahogany wood worn down in two spots from the years of Sakura and Sarada’s meals together.

Sarada would never admit it, but she did miss the days when her mother’s schedule would line up with her own, and they would always make a point to eat at least one meal together.

Atop the table, in the very center was an elegant bouquet of red and yellow camellia, with sprigs of lavender tucked throughout and elegant blooms of tiny forget-me-not accentuating the more dramatic petals. The flowers looked and smelled fresh, Sarada noticed. Sakura was never one to keep flowers constantly in the house unless gifted to her from her best friend, Ino. Though, Sarada doubted that Ino would gift such romantic flowers to her mother. The out-of-place bouquet lead her eyes to an even more unusual sight. 

Sasuke, cloaked in grey and navy, with his hair pushed back enough to expose his mismatched eyes leaned against the countertop next to his wife, much to the surprise of his exhausted daughter.

“Papa!” She exclaimed and rushed over, “How long was it this time? A year at least.”

“16 months, actually.” Sasuke retorted, and motioned for her to hug him. The two Uchiha embraced quickly, as Sakura smiled at the rare sight of her complete family.

“Sarada, I’m glad you’re home!” Sakura exclaimed, abandoning the soup on the messy stovetop. Her eyes roved over Sarada, examining her daughter for injuries, “Were you hurt?” She asked, concern tinging her voice.

“No, Mama. I’m fine. Just a few more scars.” Sarada replied, and lifted one of her sleeves to show off a few fresh scars dancing on her upper arm.

“I had heard you were back from Ino. Sarada-taicho eh?” Sakura grinned with a low whistle, “That’s something to brag about.”

“Oh, well,” Sarada scoffed, “It barely counts when I was just leading Mitsuki and Boruto.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Naruto wouldn’t put you in charge if he didn’t believe in your ability to lead!” Sakura mentioned cheerily.

“You did well, Sarada.” Sasuke said, pride hidden in his musky voice.

“I’m so glad you’re safe.” Sakura added.

Sarada felt a smile break out across her face, and she looked down quickly. She knew her family was proud of her, however, hearing those words from her father was a rarity she had to savour. Though he was around more now than he had been during her youth, his presence wasn’t exactly a fixture around the Uchiha household.

“How long will you be home for?” Sarada inquired, curious as to how long she would be able to see her father for. Sakura and Sasuke shared a quick glance with each other.

“I’m not really home for a visit.” Sasuke answered, flatly. Sakura looked away from Sarada quickly, “You only caught me because it’s late.”

Sarada’s smile fell quickly into disappointment she was unable to hide. Sasuke sighed quietly at the sight.

“Dear, before you say anything, your father is a very important man—” Sakura started quickly, desperate to put together her family.

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that my entire life.” Sarada interrupted, nodded, and went straight for the bathroom, eager to let the steaming hot water envelop her for the first time in weeks.

She knew she was lucky enough to even have a bathtub, and took full advantage of it at every opportunity. The bathroom was warm, mint green in colour. A plain vase of fresh cut flowers—narcissus—decorated the stone counter in front of the mirror. Sarada flipped the faucet on, grateful for the white noise to help drown out her thoughts, and she waited for the bathtub to fill. She moved to the mirror and took in her reflection.

Deep bags had formed under her onyx eyes. She desperately needed a rest.

The heat from the water cloaked the air in a gratuitous steam. Sarada sighed, and slipped her gear off, and watched as it crumpled into a pool around her ankles. Her creamy skin was marked up all over, with criss-crossing scars decorating her every inch. She breathed in deeply, lamenting the changes that had occurred through her few years of being a true shinobi. This was a life she would never escape—and though it was stress filled, life threatening, and came with an extremely shortened life span, Sarada was not sure she would ever want it any other way.

One step at a time, Sarada climbed over the lip of the bathtub and into the steaming water, ready to wash her troubles, new traumas, and most of all, the dirt plastered to her legs down the drain.

Excited for the luxury of nice soap, and a different product for your hair than your body, Sarada allowed herself to indulge in the expensive oil that had been a gift from Ino many months ago. The steam became deeply scented with jasmine and ylang-ylang, Sarada’s favourite. She took another deep breath, and laid back in the bathtub, feeling the water take her under. The caress from the water was more comforting than anything Sarada had experienced in months.

Her mind began to wander, revisiting that horrible night that she would carry with her forever. Though Sarada tried to fight it, desperately attempting to shake the vicious images from her mind, the memory overtook her.

_“Don’t die, you stupid idiot!” Sarada sobbed, “You can’t die!”_

_By now, Boruto’s blood stained the fifth layer of bandages Sarada wrapped around his midriff. Sarada felt his heartbeat growing more and more faint as she cradled the blonde’s head in her lap as though this would save his life._

_“Where is Mitsuki?” She screamed, at no one in particular. But of course, she knew where Mitsuki was. She just needed Boruto to hold on for another hour, and he would be okay._

_“You promised me!” Sarada’s voice broke, as her tears fell freely, mixing with the rain splashing on to Boruto’s unconscious face. She cried, screaming into the sky wishing she had enough strength for the both of them. She poured all of the chakra that she could into his limp body, exhausting herself._

_“Sara...chan” he coughed. Sarada’s head immediately snapped back to him, “Sara-chan is that you?”_

_Sarada gasped, and hushed him, but as per usual he did not listen._

_“Sara-chan, what happened?” He asked quietly._

_“Boruto! You can’t die…” She cried, pulling him closer._

_“I can’t die,” He agreed with a meek smile. He tried to sit up, but winced and grasped his wound. He collapsed back into the lap of his friend._

_“Don’t move!” Sarada commanded._

_“It’s okay, Sara-Chan.” Boruto said calmly. He lifted one hand slowly and grasped her face with it, “If I’m supposed to protect you forever, I can’t die.”_

_Sarada said nothing, but gripped his hand to her and cried harder. He smiled at her again, and fell unconscious._

The thought of it made her feel sick. She had almost lost everything that night—her status and accountability, her prestige, as well as her teammate. Sarada refused to be the young captain who’d become responsible for the death of her comrade—her role in this life was never that. Sarada had meticulously planned her future from childhood, and this sort of setback, or dare she say failure, was not to be part of it.

And yet, something ate at her. The prospect of losing a teammate wasn’t simply just a teammate. It was _Boruto_. Though she loved to pretend he was irrelevant to her and her goals, she couldn’t begin to even fathom how her future would look without him.

Sarada sighed, running a hand through her long raven hair swirling in the water around her. Boruto was going to be the death of her, whether she liked it or not.

He’d promised her that he would protect her forever. So why was she the one doing the protecting? Sarada’s eyebrows drew together in frustration. She knew she didn’t have to protect him specifically, so why did he make her feel so frantic?

It must be because of their history, Sarada concluded. Boruto had been a fixture in her life for, well, her life. It wouldn’t be possible for her to imagine a life without him because she hadn’t ever lived a life without him. Sarada inhaled the steamy air, satisfied with her own conclusions.

By now, Sarada had been bathing for entirely too long in her own opinion. She soaped herself down, working the bubbles into a thick lather, relishing the feeling of renewed cleanliness. She rinsed out her hair, and pulled the plug to drain the tub. Sarada sat curled up until all of the scented water had disappeared down the drain, the weight of her own body and mind returning to her slowly. She stood, grabbed a fluffy white towel from a rack against the wall, and wrapped herself in it ceremoniously. Sarada exited the bathroom and made her way to her bedroom and most importantly, her bed, desperately wanting to get the rest she deserved.

She looked around the room she had not seen for months, and breathed in the familiar air. Her desk touched the wall next to the door, various equipment strewn about on it without organization—the least organized part of Sarada’s life. It was clear that she had left in a rush; Sarada made a mental note to thank her mother for not re-organizing while Sarada was away.  Her bed, draped with red bedsheets and an abundance of bouncy pillows laid in waiting, practically begging for her to allow the sweet caress of sleep to take her. A quick scan of the area revealed a note pinned lightly to her mirror, with her father’s scrawling handwriting recognizable from afar. It only contained two words— _I’m sorry._ Sarada resigned herself from her earlier outburst, knowing that this was the best she would get from him at the moment.

At long last, the soft pillows met her grateful body, as Sarada didn’t even bother changing before passing into a deep, silent sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter features fairly graphic depictions of injuries. Proceed with caution if that effects you in any way.

Boruto did not receive the same welcome as Sarada on his arrival home, but that didn’t make him any less happy for the return.

“I’m back,” He announced quietly, more precautionary than anything, knowing full well his mother would be long asleep by this hour. The rare sight of a pair of well-worn shoes placed neatly at the door alerted him to the fact that somehow, his father had made it home before him. He kicked off his own shoes with little regard to where they went, and made his way into the house. Though Boruto was not one to openly admit sentiment, he was more than overjoyed to be back in the comfort of his family home. On the dining table, a fluorescent pink card stood on its side. Boruto smiled, and made his way over to the card, realizing immediately it was for him:

_We tried to stay awake to greet you but I was too exhausted. Congratulations on your successful mission! I know that your father is so proud of you. Every day you fill me with more and more pride. Get some rest, I love you. Mom. PS: Hima-chan is on a mission of her own, she should be back in the village soon!_

A smile crept over his lips at how in character a move this was for his mother to write him a card just because he had returned safely. He snatched and pocketed the card, and swiftly made his way towards his own bedroom, haphazardly swinging his gear bag behind him. Taking little care to not scuff the wall, he ran up the narrow staircase just as he always did.

            Boruto flung open the door to his room. Where toys and electronics once lived now rested only a small collection of swords and scrolls. A framed photograph of his own team seven—a gift from Konohamaru on his promotion to chuunin status—sat next to a computer monitor. Boruto dropped his bag against his desk, and picked the photograph up.

            The ever so confident, round, and youthful faces of his teammates shone up at him: ready to take on the world. Boruto tried to recall the moment that photo was taken, how he was sure that he was invincible. How wrong he was, and had been proven time and time again. His opposite hand lifted at the hem of his shirt, revealing to only himself the disgusting, barely healed wound left by the surprise attack that would have killed him had Sarada not been as near as she was. His hand softly prodded the wound, suddenly hyper aware of his own mortality.

            He had come so close to breaking the promise he had made. He had let himself down, his father down, but most importantly to him, he had let Sarada down. He felt a hot tear well up in his eye, and roll down his face tauntingly. Boruto set down the old photograph, and wiped his face quickly. He whipped off his shirt in one fell swoop, and collapsed on to his bed.

            His mind begged for rest, but could not stop him from an unidentifiable feeling capturing his whole being. Was it guilt? Boruto could not be sure.

            An image of Sarada, clothes muddy and torn, desperately trying to patch him up would not get the hint that it wasn’t welcome at the moment. Her piercing wail into the raining, night sky injured him, as he knew that he was the cause of that hardship. His own shaking hand reaching to cup her sticky face was the last image he saw before sleep touched him, and he was grateful for the release. Unfortunately, the sleep was not meant to be restless.

 

_Mitsuki’s face appeared in Boruto’s line of vision. They were safe—for now, though Boruto knew that aspect could change. Boruto tried to move to sit up, but a sharp pain alerted him that this would be a bad idea. Boruto crumpled, falling back to the ground as his lower abdomen betrayed him._

_“I wouldn’t recommend moving,” Mitsuki said flatly, a small smile crossing his face, “But I’m very glad you are alive.”_

_Boruto coughed softly, not wanting to utilize his abdominal muscles. He tasted the pang of blood on his tongue. From what he could tell, they were at their halfway camp. He was in a ramshackle tent that was clearly assembled in a haste. A less than comfortable bedroll protected his body from the hard and damp ground. A bowl of water with a bloodstained rag was next to him. Sickness began welling in the pit of his stomach as he realized the blood was his own.  He looked up into Mitsuki’s inquisitive face, halfway searching for the answers he knew weren’t going to come so easily._

_“How are you feeling?” Mitsuki asked, gently, and genuinely concerned. Boruto winced in response._

_“How am I supposed to be feeling?” He answered._

_“Not dead.” Mitsuki said through a sly smile._

_“I’m not dead.” Boruto twisted his head around, drinking in his circumstances, “Where is Sarada?”_

_“Ah, Sarada, she…” Mitsuki began, trailing off. The sickness in Boruto’s stomach threatened to spill over into the tent._

_“Is she alright? Mitsuki, is she alive?” Boruto asked, frantic tone creeping into his generally cool demeanor. He quickly moved to get up, and felt the burning pain of his wound attack him all at once. Boruto collapsed for a second time, angry, and helpless to the pain. Was she okay? He noticed a distinct lack of her presence anywhere in the tent; not even a single possession of hers found a spot within it._

_When Boruto turned back to Mitsuki his mouth had morphed from the usual gentle smile into a hideous, rotting cavern. Blood streamed from his teeth as Mitsuki’s face twisted in agony. A horrifying, blood curdling scream erupted from his mouth. Boruto attempted to get up and get away from the terrifying creature that was once his friend, but the injury confined him to the bedroll._

_His surroundings changed quickly. The humble tent melted away, leaving Boruto stranded in a puddle of his own blood, mixed with the blood on the ground. Looking down at his abdomen, a fresh slash appeared exactly where the first one was. The blood spilling out of his stomach, however, was tinged black._

_Appearing above him was Sarada. But—she was wrong. Her hair hung in uneven chunks, as if ripped out viciously. Instead of her usual creamy face was a face of ugly purple bruises, dried blood caked and crackling around her nose. Horror plastered in her onyx eyes, a look Boruto never wanted to see again.He looked to her body, her limbs angry and mangled, broken in directions they should not have been. He reached out to touch her bruised and bloodied face._

_“Boruto” She croaked out, in a pitiful, scared voice that raised the hairs on his arms._

_As soon as he touched her, her throat slit open from ear to ear. Hot blood poured onto him and mixed with his own, and Sarada’s broken body went limp, collapsing on to his own._

_Boruto screamed._

 

He awoke, coated in a layer of sticky sweat. His heart beat rampantly like a winning racehorse crossing the finish line. His hands immediately went to his wound; no blood, only the ugly scar. He sat up gingerly but without problems.

Just a dream, then. A terrible dream, but it wasn’t real.

The panic in his chest definitely felt real. His brain flicked back to the terrifying image of Sarada presented to him by his subconscious. The growing feeling of sickness that had been holding him hostage overflowed. Boruto stood up, and ran to the garbage bin next to his desk as quickly as he could, and barely made it before his stomach unceremoniously emptied its contents.

Boruto stood and wiped his mouth. He desperately needed water. He quietly opened the door to his bedroom and padded softly to the bathroom he shared with his sister, still. The bathroom itself was a cube of white tile—clean by merit. The bathroom counter was dark wood, drawers on either side split between the siblings. The counter top was uncharacteristically barren—lacking the usual toiletries from either Boruto or Himawari, or both. The sink was a long oval, polished silver taps without even a fingerprint or splash of toothpaste to mark it up. It was clear the Boruto that this bathroom hadn’t been used in weeks. He reached a hand out to the tap, and flicked it on. Water gushed out of it. A large mirror hung over the bathroom counter, revealing the early morning form of himself, and Boruto studied it carefully.

The telltale sign of eye bags hung below each of his blue irises. The scar over his eye appeared darker than usual, an indicator of his pure exhaustion. He hadn’t washed the night before, and was aware of the stubble across his jawline. He didn’t like the reflection, and tore his eyes away, instead focusing on the water as it cascaded down into the bowl. Cupping his hands, he filled them with water, and brought them to his face. In contrast to the acidic vomit, the water was almost sweet.

After he had drank his fill, he splashed another handful on to his face, and patted it down with a lime green hand towel that found its home to the left of him. He dropped the towel on to the counter without regard to organization and returned to his room.

It quickly became aware to Boruto that he had no idea what time it was. He tossed the curtains above his bed to the side and revealed a not-yet-light sky. So it was close to dawn, then. Boruto ruffled a hand into his hair, deciding there was no point in attempting to rest further.

A gentle knock sounded at his door, startling him. His mother, probably. Quickly throwing on a shirt to hide his wound, Boruto opened the door gently. Surprisingly, he did not find his mother, but the sleepy body of his father standing in the doorway, “I heard you in the bathroom,” Naruto said, the grogginess still lodged in his throat, “You’re awake early.”

Boruto fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, realizing it was inside out, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah,” Naruto said and nodded, “Can I come in?”

Boruto nodded, and moved out of the way. His father entered the room, taking a deep breath.

“You know, I have the nightmares too sometimes.” He said, looking at Boruto expectantly. Boruto flushed, suddenly aware that the scream from is nightmare may have bled over into real life.

“You learn to ignore them. They’re really tough at first.” Naruto said, “They’re still really tough now. It’s something almost every shinobi has to deal with.”

Boruto nodded, “It’s just so—“

“I know. You don’t need to re-live it.” Naruto interrupted, “Come downstairs. I’ll make you some coffee. You can come with me today."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little more explicit than the others :)

It had been seven days and seven nights since Boruto’s first nightmare. It had also been seven days since Boruto decided he couldn’t bear to look into Sarada’s eyes without watching the distorted images of her broken body play against his eyelids. So he was avoiding her, plain and simple. It wasn’t hard; he had her training schedule memorized front to back and could easily find an excuse to avoid traveling past her apartment building. Even if it meant taking a 10-minute detour through multiple alleyways and some poor herbalist’s garden.

The lack of sleep caused by the nightmares was remarkably easy to handle at first. Days 1-4 were marked by a slight irritation that caused him to be short with pedestrians and others in his way. The advice of his father after the first nightmare rang deep within his ears, _“Sometimes you have to make yourself so tired that you have no other options but to sleep—then the nightmare should leave you alone.”_ He had said, so confident and knowing. Boruto was determined to take his father’s advice, knowing that there must be thousands of worse things he had seen.

Days 5 and 6 it got much harder. Boruto’s days were spent trudging through the motions. He had no energy for training, so he stayed at home for much of it. He booted up the video games he had long since abandoned as a child, and poured hours into it. It was clear his family was concerned—they would frequently knock on his door to check on him, but Boruto was not forthcoming with his troubles and would assure them that he was: “just fine, just a little bored.” They reluctantly believed him.

On day 7, His mother had requested him to run to the market and pick up a specific type of pepper her kitchen had ran short of during Boruto’s week of stand-by duty at home. Boruto happily obliged, and headed out the door. Rounding the corner of his street, he caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a puddle at the side of the road.

Boruto’s eye bags had drawn deep into his face over the 7 days of almost no sleep. His plump cheeks had subtly transformed, losing plumpness to a gaunt appearance that was unfamiliar. Even his usual tanned complexion had taken on a sickly yellowed hue. The face staring back at him startled him, but it was nothing he did not expect. He quickly shook off his surprise and continued to the open air market deeper into the village. Once there, he checked the instructions Hinata had written out for him, and headed for the stall with the red cloth roof.

Stationed in front of the stall Boruto was determined to reach was a pink-haired kunoichi deep in thought. She was a common sight in her work uniform, a long white lab coat, her hair scooped back into the basic semblance of a bun. Boruto recognized her at once, his Aunt Sakura. He screeched to a halt, begging her to hurry up so he could avoid a conversation with her.

She turned away from the stall with a perplexed look on her face. Boruto was unlucky today, “Ah, Boruto!” She called, waving at him from the 20 or so feet ahead. Boruto returned the acknowledgement and closed the distance.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in a long time! I heard about your latest mission!” She said, her usual playful smile on her face.

Boruto feigned his enthusiasm, “Yeah, it was a big one.” He forced out, but felt the telltale stench of guild begin to seep into his stomach, settling around his new wound.

“You three should be very proud of yourselves. That troupe of missing nin were not easy. I must’ve had to treat 15 different injuries from them over the past few months. Serious ones at that.” She said, patting Boruto on the shoulder, as he was too tall to pat on the head now.

Boruto cracked a smile in response, the first genuine one of the day. He took a quick breath, carefully considering his reply, but was interrupted.

 “Mama!” A familiar voice called from across the market. The last voice Boruto wanted to hear right now. He felt whatever sleep-deprived colour that remained in his cheeks drain from his face in shame. Sarada sidled up to her mother, who adopted the same sheepish grin that was commonplace for Boruto himself sheepish grin, like a child caught in something she shouldn’t have. Boruto stiffened noticeably, shifting his gaze to avoid eye contact with his team member.

“Sorry Sarada, I was just chatting with Boruto!” She said, and turned to the blonde, “We have to go, but you should come by for dinner. Bring your parents.”

“I’ll try” he said quickly, not looking up, bidding Sakura farewell.

Sarada turned to Boruto, trying to get his attention, but Boruto was too ashamed to look back. Turning to the stall, he pretended to be busy examining zucchinis, so enthralled that he didn’t notice her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sarada frown in confusion, with a semi-detectable glimmer of concern in her eyes, but then turned to walk away with her mother. Boruto sighed in relief and straightened up. He grabbed the peppers Hinata requested and threw a few coins on the counter, making his way home.

            That night, his dreams changed.

***

            _A glittering sunset painted colours into the lake in front of him. Vibrant pinks and orange streaked through the sky, the sun kissing the horizon like a lover reunited. Boruto took a step forward on to the dock in front of him, sitting down off of the edge. The air around him tousled his golden hair, a warm and pleasant breeze making small ripples on the lake. He took a deep breath, smelling the sweetness of musky jasmine and ylang-ylang in the air. The smell reminded him of happiness, calm._

_Boruto felt his whole body unclench, and beamed. He quickly removed his shoes and dipped his feet into the ripples—warm water caressed his ankles. He leaned back on to his hands, drinking in the moment. A splash caught his attention as he snapped his head towards the sound. The clear bubbly giggle of Sarada filled his ears as she popped her head out of the water. Her black hair was flattened completely, but she flipped over to do a sloppy backstroke in the lake. She appeared to be in her underwear, Boruto noticed, his gaze lingering ever slightly too long on the curve of her plain black bra over her chest._

_“Get in!” She shouted, motioning wildly with her hands for Boruto to join her._

_Boruto all but tore his shirt off of his torso, and shimmied out of his leggings, tossing them messily into a pile on the dock. He backed up approximately 10 feet, and broke out into a run. Reaching the end of the dock, he leapt and tucked himself into a ball._

_The water smacked his body as he sunk into the lake. His legs hit the sand on the bottom, and he propelled himself upwards. He gasped for air, but allowed himself to feel the freedom of the open water. Sarada laughed again, swimming madly towards him. The pair met, and she splashed water into his face, grinning._

_“Hey!” he exclaimed, breaking into a mischievous smile. He ducked under the water, swimming slow circles around her pale, muscular legs. When he was sure she was off guard, he reached out and tugged on one of her small feet, dragging her under. He swam quickly to the surface, letting his own laughter belt out across the lake. Sarada emerged with playful annoyance across her face. She crossed the distance to him, flipping her hair back behind her._

_“I could take you down, Boruto!” She announced_

_“Oh yeah?” Boruto goaded, “I’d like to see you try!” He raised his fists to his face with glee. He noted the carefree glitter in Sarada’s eyes, the golden-orange water reflecting off of them beautifully. It had been so long since he had seen her so happy._

_Sarada leapt at him, which he moved aside quickly. She crashed into the water next to him, giggling with glee. Boruto moved to splash her, but she rushed him, their bodies contacting before he could get the water to her._

_Out of habit, or self-preservation, she unconsciously wrapped her arms around his neck. The confident smirk washed off of Boruto’s face, replaced by a tomato-faced blush. He felt her exhale, her warm breath hitting his cheek. His arms drew around her slender waist, pulling her closer. They stared into each other’s eyes, blue meeting black, for a heavy moment. Boruto watched pink creep on to Sarada’s cheeks. He saw her bite her lip, releasing it quickly. He saw her gaze flicker quickly to his own lips, and back to his eyes. She was close enough that he could count her long eyelashes._

_Something told him, no, compelled him to close the distance. Inhaling deeply, Boruto gently pressed his lips against hers, tentative, asking the question. He felt Sarada’s mouth melt, and she drank him in. Her lips moved against his, her arms around his neck tightened and pulled him flush against her; wet skin on wet skin. She moved her head to the right slightly, deepening their kiss and parting his lips with her own. A soft grunt escaped his mouth and into hers as he complied, reveling in the feeling of her softness. One of Sarada’s hands crept up to the back of his head, knotting into his wet hair. Her hot breath mingling with his own as passion spurred them on._

_One of Boruto’s hands traveled away from Sarada’s slender waist, moving to her hips. He pulled her tighter to him, begging to be closer. Sarada moaned quietly into Boruto’s mouth. He took that sign as encouragement and allowed his hand to venture further south. He felt the bare cheek of her ass and used it to pull her up to him; her legs wrapped around him sensually. Lifting her, he released her mouth, nibbling her bottom lip gently on the way out. He moved to her earlobe, lightly breathing on it, leaving feather light kisses in a trail leading down her jawline, and stopping where her shoulder and neck met. Sarada let her head tip back, allowing herself to experience the feeling of his lips in every sense of the word._

_Boruto navigated them back to the pier where he sat earlier. He lifted Sarada up to rest against the hot wood, and followed suit. Was the blanket draped on the dock always there? No matter. Sarada laid back on to the plush blanket, lust-filled eyes and inviting body language saying more to Boruto than her words ever could. He slid on to her body, caressing her face as he leaned down to kiss her once more. His right forearm balanced himself over her, his left found its home tugging at the bottom of her now-soaked sports bra. Sarada grabbed his hand, and slid it under the bra, allowing him to cub the soft breast it contained. His fingers sought out the small bud that topped the swell, rolling it gently. Sarada moaned much louder, giving in to the pleasure._

 ***

            Boruto awoke with a shock. The blankets around him were tangled between his legs in knots. Confusion washed over him, “What the fuck was that?” he said audibly. The sun was beginning to peek through the slats of his window: the first full night's sleep in a week.

            At least the dream wasn’t a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for putting up with my world-building thus far, I appreciate every single little kudos left on my work! This chapter was originally much longer, but I decided to break it up into two. A big mission is coming ;) Please stay tuned!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having the chapter complete is better than having it perfect, I guess. This is a little shorter than before, but its more of a segue way into the next big important thing. Thanks for sticking with me!

"You’re an idiot.” Shikadai said firmly.

“Hey!” Boruto exclaimed, “I’m coming to you for advice!”

“My advice is: stop being an idiot.” Shikadai grumbled, crossing his arms across his body firmly.

The duo, still hopping the tops of trains like children, felt the gush of air in their faces as the train ran the circumference of the village. It was early morning, birds were awakening, singing playful songs as they tended to their families. Boruto always felt as though he could gather his thoughts most affectively when feeling the crisp morning wind in his hair and the tame sun at his back.

Was he being an idiot? Shikadai was usually right, as much as Boruto would only admit the fact begrudgingly. His feelings for Sarada were something, he just wasn’t sure what they really were. She was his first friend, his earliest memories featured her bell-like giggle. She was his biggest rival, the only person who could ever match him in terms of skill. She had seen him at his worst, and been there to save his ass while she was at it. She knew exactly what he was thinking without him having to say it—a mere glance and flick of an eyebrow was all he needed to convey anything to her.

Yes, he cared about her deeply. And for the longest time, that was all it was. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on what this new distraction was. She was striking. Boruto pretended he never noticed the beautiful curve of her smile when satisfied, or the glimmering onyx of her eyes that always accompanied her sarcasm. The sight of her hair plastered messily to her forehead as she trained, sweat dripping down the soft plateaus of her cheeks occasionally left him awestruck. He pretended that the way she danced so gracefully in battle didn’t impress him. He pretended that the way her delicate fingers wove intricate hand seals didn’t occasionally leave him vulnerable. Many a time did he have to glance away quickly to avoid her catching his distracted gaze, an eager audience to the show that she put on.

But most of all, he pretended that he never needed her, not even once. He didn’t need her cunning mind getting them out of countless bad situations Boruto could never fathom solutions for. He didn’t need her to care about if he was eating, or for her to ask when did he last sleep. He definitely didn’t need her to save his life—especially after he promised to be the one doing the protecting.

Yet here he was, finding it harder than ever to pretend she didn’t captivate him.

Shikadai sighed deeply, drawing Boruto out of his train of thought, “Obviously you like her, and you’re too hard-headed to admit it.”

“Definitely not that.” Boruto said with finality. Shikadai rolled his eyes and threw up his hands in defeat.

“Okay, then you’re just an idiot. Don’t let this one failure bog you down, you can move on. Don’t let it happen again, you know?” Shikadai responded, getting to his feet as the train neared the Hokage Complex, “You’re a ninja after all. This shit happens.”

Boruto toyed with the official Hokage summons in his back pocket. Could he handle another mission so soon after the last? His stomach wound had barely scabbed over, still ugly, still hindering his movement. But because of Sarada, it remained illegally unreported. He could not reject a mission without being pressed for a reason, and he couldn’t give a reason without revealing their secret. He wouldn’t let Sarada down again.

Boruto took a deep breath and nodded. He followed Shikadia’s lead and stood up, running a hand through his blonde hair absentmindedly. The pair leapt from the train to the land barrier shielding the Hokage Complex from vulnerability, and made their way to the rounded building standing as a testament to the resolve of the Leaf. The broad doors of the admittedly intimidating building swung open for them as they approached, and they made their way to the heavy wooden desk where the attendant sat, eagerly expecting their arrival.

“Uzumaki-San, Nara-San, you are needed at once by the Hokage. His office is—“

“We know where the office is.” Shikadai said with a smile, knowing that the attendant only directed them through muscle memory. The attendant smiled back apologetically, and directed them to the escalators.

Shikadai and Boruto headed straight for the tallest escalator in the open area, allowing their laziness to overcome their sense of duty and riding it to the top. They moved together silently, both knowing exactly where the Hokage’s office was. At the top of the elevator, they made an immediate beeline for the round office in the center of the building. At the large wooden door to the office, the pair stopped in their tracks to the sight of Shikamaru chatting candidly with a civilian-dressed Sarada: A turtleneck with shoulder cut outs in her signature colour, and tight fitting white pants. Her hair was unbound and missing her usual headband, falling gently over her glasses. Her face was clean and free of makeup, effortless but glowing. Boruto immediately felt underdressed in his mesh top and old black jacket, unfamiliar with this new sense of discomfort. Sarada’s arms were crossed over her body as she smiled at the older Shinobi.

Sarada looked up to survey the approaching pair, and locked eyes with Boruto. Boruto was immediately reminded of the sensual look on her face from his dream, and his brain flicked to consider the taste of her soft moans into his mouth. His cheeks reddened significantly as he forced his gaze to the plank flooring beneath them. Butterflies reared up in his stomach as he felt her eyes on him, and it took all of his self-control to not meet her gaze a second time.

Shikamaru turned to greet the pair, “Ah good, you’re finally here. The Hokage wants to see you three.”

Shikamaru’s words immediately explained Sarada’s presence, Boruto thought. He nodded, “We came as soon as we got the notice.”

“You shouldn’t keep him waiting.” He opened the door, revealing the familiar interior of Naruto’s office and ushered the three young people in. Naruto was seated among the usual piles of files and paperwork, with a distinct lack of instant ramen containers. Boruto suspected Shikamaru removed those prior to the meeting. A single file laid in front of him, open, with encoded documents strewn haphazardly in chaotic organization. Noticing his son, Naruto broke into a full-faced smile, and greeted the trio happily.

“Thank you all for coming at such short notice, but unfortunately things like this don’t wait for the rest of the world. I have a mission for you three specifically, should you wish to accept it.” He announced, motioning to the three young shinobi in front of him, “There’s been a growing argument with two rival feudal lords on the outskirts of the Land of Rivers, and the Land of Fire. They’re divided over a border between them, and the conflict is getting more and more heated.”

The trio remained unphased. To Boruto, it seemed to be a political issue, rather than one that required shinobi intervention, “So, you’re sending us to settle an argument?” He interrupted his father, who shot him a disapproving look.

“I wasn’t finished.” Naruto said swiftly. Boruto’s gaze shot down, as he could feel Sarada’s annoyance radiating off of her.

“There have been small-scale abductions, and attacks on civilian farmers by body protection units on both sides. Whether or not opposing shinobi have been hired is yet to be seen.” Naruto continued, shuffling papers from the dossier in front of him around surreptitiously, “However, the attacks on our feudal lord are getting more and more vicious. This month he has hemorrhaged a significant amount of his fortune on replacing personnel and quelling the fear that’s growing from his constituents. He is beginning to suspect the involvement of the crime organization: The Dragon.”

Shikadai nodded in understanding, and glanced at his own father. Shikamaru stood silently behind Naruto, his arms crossed tightly across his body and the perfect poker face playing on his features. Shikadai knew better, though, and looked deeper into the eyes of the man who raised him, noting the hint of worry he couldn’t conceal. The tension in the room grew substantially.

Naruto looked back at his dossier, “Unfortunately, next week is the traditional Debutante Ball for the Feudal Lord’s 17 year old daughter. I have already asked if it would be possible to cancel this Ball, and the Feudal Lord was shocked and confused. He was completely against this suggestion. At this Ball, all of the Feudal Lords and non-shinobi political dignitaries in a 1000 mile proximity will be present, including the Feudal Lord he is arguing with. It is for this reason, he is afraid the Ball will be targeted by The Dragon. In order to maintain the safety of his daughter, he has requested secret protection at this event. No one is to know he has hired our help unless absolutely necessary.” He finished, looking pointedly from face to face of the trio in front of him.

“Is there any further information on The Dragon available to us?” Sarada asked professionally. Naruto nodded, and grabbed a chunk of papers from the back of the dossier.

“Shikadai has recently been tasked with compiling information, shadowing a covert observation operation on The Dragon. Sans ANBU operatives, he is the most knowledgeable active shinobi in the village on this criminal organization, and he will be the captain of this mission.” Naruto said. Shikadai nodded affirmatively.

Sarada felt a deep pang of disappointment in the pit of her stomach. She was suddenly aware that she had competition. Was she not good enough to lead? Did the Hokage doubt her abilities? Or worse, was he aware of the vicious failure of her last mission as captain? She could not let her disappointment show, however, and she straightened up immediately.

Shikamaru took over, “Your mission is to protect the Feudal Lord of Fire and his daughter. All the while, you should be reporting information regarding the potential involvement of The Dragon back to the Hokage. If the argument between Fire and River is solved, consider it a bonus.” He cracked a smile, “But remember, no one is to know you are shinobi unless _absolutely necessary._ Will you accept the mission?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Boruto is starting to notice his ~feelings~ for Sarada! A mission forcing them to be together couldn't possibly go wrong.... right?
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I welcome any and all feedback and the kudos, bookmarks, and comments are what keep me motivated to write this. See you next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added and removed so much stuff to this chapter it barely even looks the same as how it started. I hope you all enjoy!

Sarada pulled the grey leg protectors up over her knees, setting them roughly mid-thigh. She zipped up her long, thigh length quipao jacket; red, with the Uchiha fan on the back. It settled graciously over her skin-tight black shorts, spandex material for movement and stealth. She admired her own intimidation in the mirror as she pulled her chipped and dented forehead protector over her head, adjusting her hair to fall the right way over it.

It was 6:30 a.m. sharp, and she was prepared to take on the world. Shikadai had asked her and Boruto to meet him at the gate in 15 minutes. _Boruto_ … Sarada thought, the blonde shinobi coming to the forefront of her mind. He had been acting far stranger than usual after the conclusion of their last mission. _Why can’t he even look me in the eye?_

Sarada wasn’t stupid—she knew he was intentionally avoiding her. His usual morning path to town was untraveled, he was not popping up at his favourite littler burger bar, and he definitely wasn’t training with her like they’ve done every mission-free morning since they graduated the academy. She just could not for the life of her figure out _why_. Though she wouldn’t admit it, she reveled in the idea of a new mission so soon after the last—not only would she be able to redeem herself to herself, but she could force some answers from Boruto.

She looked down at her packing list. “Formal wear” was the only item unchecked. Sarada sighed in frustration, acknowledging the emptiness of her closet. Her fashion sense could be summed up in one word: practical. Formalwear, in its own essence, was the opposite of practical. She scanned the few dresses she owned, most of them forced on her by Chocho as they got older and Chocho all but blackmailed Sarada to come out dancing with her. Strappy numbers, plain and black, and one dress that was a gauzy chiffon in a plummy maroon, with a V-shaped neckline cut far too low for Sarada’s liking. Much to her disdain, that was the most appropriate “formal” dress she owned. She tugged it from its hanger, folded it carefully with her civilian clothing, and tucked it into her pack. Along with a spare set of shuriken, Sarada was officially packed and ready to leave.

She flicked the light to her bedroom off, ready to face her next challenge. Outside, on her kitchen table, the flowers her mother had received from her father were showing the signs of wilting, the camellia tinted brown on the edges, and the forget me not drooping and losing its petals. The awful scent of dying flowers assaulted her nose. Sarada knew her mother was bothered by something; although she could be a little messy she wouldn’t leave something to stink up the house. Sarada made a mental note to worry about that later. She moved to the front door of the apartment, and scribbled a quick note of goodbye to Sakura.

The walk to the main gate was underwhelming. The sunrise hadn’t broken yet, and the dew still clung to the grass. So early in the morning the bustling village was still quiet—the market hadn’t opened yet, most people were barely getting up for the day. The train line hadn’t even had its first ring of the day yet. It was peaceful. Sarada breathed in the morning air, reveling in her own company. She had never been unhappy alone—in fact, she loved it. She could piece together her own thoughts and strategies that other people crowded out.

Being alone was not the problem, but loneliness was. She would find herself watching from the sidelines as other people found each other. For god’s sake, Chocho would have a new male obsession every week, loving the attention they would shower on to her. Sarada would listen quietly as the other girls would tell stories of their road to growing up—and Sarada would only tell herself she was jealous. With all of the time Sarada devoted to training, to taking on extra missions, to volunteering with the Hokage, she didn’t have the _time_ let alone the energy to meet someone. She shook these thoughts out of her head: she did not need romance. Romance would only get in the way of her own ambitions.

 _I’ll have time for that after I make Jonin,_ she thought, and continued her walk. The crisp morning air nibbled on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. She saw the looming figure of the main gate enter her line of vision, and heard her new teammates, the best friends, bickering before she even saw them.

“Can you just respect me for like, five minutes?” Shikadai quipped, exasperation already tinging his voice.

“I do respect you!” Boruto exclaimed, “But I’m not going to kiss your ass just because my old man put you in charge.”

“Then stop fighting me! I have no idea how Sarada and Mitsuki did this for so long.” Shikadai groaned.

“They aren’t little bitches about it.”

“Oh my god, fuck off.”

Boruto’s laugh ricocheted off of the buildings and hit Sarada’s ears. Sarada allowed herself to smile a little, Boruto’s way to make an argument about anything a common theme in their time with team Konohamaru.

“Boys.” Sarada called out, closing the distance between them.

“Ah, Sarada,” Shikadai greeted her, “Are you going to question my leadership at every turn, or is that just a Boruto thing?”

Sarada giggled softly, “Just a Boruto thing. You get used to it.” She smiled at Boruto, but he had already stiffened up. He was focusing his gaze on the forest beyond the gate. Annoyance leapt into Sarada’s mind quickly, _Is he really going to keep this game up on their mission? Fine._

“We have to be at the Feudal Lord’s estate by nightfall.” Shikadai said, briefing Sarada quickly, “We will probably take a short break for lunch, but that’s it. We need to move fast and be on our guard.”

Sarada nodded, “Let’s go.”

She waved at the shinobi on guard duty, and the gates were opened. The trio took off into the woods, the sunrise beginning to kiss their backs as they ran.

***

Approximately 4 hours of running had gone by before Shikadai called for a stop. Sarada felt the confusion play visibly on her face as her legs slowed, the trio approaching a clearing in the woods. Shikadai held up a hand and beckoned them closer.

There was an eerie quietness about the forest that was uncharacteristic for the trip to the Feudal Lord’s estate. The sky was clear and blue, but remarkably free of the usual chittering birds. The sun hadn’t reached its peak in the arc of the sky, casting long shadows on the three shinobi as they came together. Sarada scanned the dense trees surrounding the forest, not lowering her guard for even a second. _Something_ wasn’t right. The question was, what.

“Boruto, what’s going on?” Shikadai asked, far too vague and general to get his point across to the otherwise oblivious blonde.

“Huh?” Boruto said, catching his breath.

“You’re slowing us down! We should be much farther by now.” Shikadai said, annoyance playing on his brow.

Immediately, Sarada felt a pang of shame. It was his injury—he shouldn’t even be on a mission while only half recovered. Her ears pricked in his direction, waiting his response. She was terrified he would sell her out.

“Ah, I’m…” Boruto said, hand moving up to his stomach. Sarada’s breath caught. “I’m fine. I’m just getting hungry.” He finished, glancing to the ground quickly, hand falling away.

Shikadai did not look convinced, but clearly didn’t feel up to fighting it. “You need to make it through to the next town at least.”

Boruto nodded, and Shikadai took off, taking point in the branches above.

Sarada could not shake the feeling that they were being watched, and fell to bring up the rear, spurring Boruto on from behind.

***

            Night fell over the woods as the trio surged forward. The darkness cloaked the thick tree line in an eerie air, shapes and visions that didn’t grace the daylight made themselves visible to the corners of the shinobi’s eyes. The moon was hidden behind a heavy wall of cloud, stifling any additional light it may have granted. They were already behind schedule, and Sarada could feel Shikadai’s annoyance radiating from his body.

“Pick it up!” he shouted behind to his comrades. Sarada nodded and pushed onwards, silently pleading with Boruto to hold it together for a few more miles. She could hear his labored breathing, and the telltale crunch of his stomach as he attempted to hide the pain he was in. Her position from behind him allowed her to watch his moves closely—his stamina was depleted, his abdomen ready to give out. She was worried about him, but would never say it. Especially if he was going to quit talking to her with no explanation.

Something whirred in front of her face. A kunai slammed itself into a tree in line with Boruto’s head.

“Watch out!” She shouted, leaping into fighting formation. Boruto fell back, readying a defensive stance. Sarada reached into her pack, flinging three shurkien at once into the direction of the thrown knife. She listened for the sound of the shurkien hitting their intended mark, but it never came. She activated her sharingan cautiously, eyes glowing in the darkness.

Shikadai leapt into the branches above them, tactfully scanning the area. Another kunai whistled through the trees, directly for Boruto’s neck. It fast—much faster than he at the moment. Boruto lunged out of the way but it sliced a cut into his cheek. Boruto cursed loudly and gritted his teeth.

Sarada’s sharingan picked up movement, “Left!” she alerted. Shikadai quickly released a charged wind scythe, clipping the assailant as he attempted to lunge for the pair of shinobi on the ground. The scythe threw him into the trunk of a large oak tree, and he struggled to regain his footing. He was pale white, almost translucent, with a bald head covered in red ink tattoos. His mouth, however, was messily sewn shut. All three of Sarada’s shuriken had burrowed into his right arm, bleeding profusely. The man lunged forward, sense of self-preservation seemingly lost. Sarada whirled in front of Boruto, blocking the attack with a fine-point kunai and pushing him back. He returned the fight, rapidly slashing and thrusting. Sarada parried expertly, leading the man around and creating enough of an opening for Boruto to take advantage of.

Boruto unsheathed his katana quickly, infusing the blade with electric chakra. He brought the blade down on his assailant quickly, who raised a kunai to block the blow. Boruto and the man stood together, as Boruto pushed the blade through the man’s kunai. In any other circumstances, his chakra would have sliced through already, ending their fight and allowing them to move on. However, Boruto had to be careful to not deplete his fluctuating chakra reserves as he waited for his wound to heal. Sarada quickly weaved hand seals: ox, tiger, and brought her fingers to her mouth.

“Katon!” She shouted, blowing an enormous fireball knocking the attacker away from Boruto and throwing his body back into the oak trunk. Before he got a chance to recover, Shikadai was quick to grab their attacker with a shadowy hand, snapping his neck with a loud crunch of finality. Shikadai approached the corpse, searching the body for some indicator of allegiance. After a brief minute, he found none on the man’s nondescript grey uniform and frowned. He turned away, eyes closed and thinking hard.

“Let’s go now before backup arrives.” He said. The trio nodded, and finished the last few miles before arriving at the gates of the Feudal Lord’s estate.

The estate itself was long, a huge manor set back into the woods. Several smaller houses dotted the green courtyard on the other side of the wall, low to the ground, some with candles or lights in the windows and some without. A cart sat abandoned at the gate, with two sentries standing guard. As the trio approached, they slowed their pace. The sentries grabbed long katanas, seeing the quickly encroaching shinobi.

Shikadai removed an ornate scroll from his pack, and offered it to the sentries graciously. One moved forward to take it, and offered it to his partner. They opened the seal and scanned the scroll quickly, bringing it down from their faces.

“We were expecting you sooner.” One said solemnly.

“We extend our deepest apologies to the Feudal Lord. We were engaged in combat, leading to our delay.” Shikadai answered, with a flourish and a bow. Sarada was impressed by his tact, and followed suit, bowing to the sentries.

“I’m sorry to hear. That is commonplace in these woods lately. We will send for the Lord at once.” The other said, moving to open the gate and ushering the shinobi in.

Shikadai, Sarada, and Boruto entered the estate, slowly taking in the scenery overwhelming their senses. To Sarada, she could tell much would change on this mission. It was not going to be an easy one. She took a deep breath, swallowing her uncertainty, and moved forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are finally at the estate, its time for the #realshit to go down... I have a bunch of sweet little moments and others that will make you want to rip your hair out planned. Hopefully y'all are as excited for it as I am.
> 
> I may have to wait a little longer than usual to post chapters, as its finals season and my workload is really picking up. I graduate college in t minus 3 weeks, so you can imagine the stress I am under! This really helps as a way to disconnect from my courseload tho.
> 
> As always, I love and appreciate all comments and kudos. Thank you for reading my work! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I know it has been a little longer than we are used to. I have been sooo busy between the last time I updated and today. I had finals week, had to crank out my senior thesis and research papers out of the ASS, and i finally graduated college! Hopefully from here on out I can update much more.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter, and thank you for sticking with me! :)

The sentries inside of the complex pointedly alerted the shinobi that the Feudal Lord had already retired to bed before their _late_ arrival. One of them, a lanky man with an eye concealed by dark hair directed them to the stout house they had been assigned. He stopped before reaching the narrow, light green screen door and turned to face the trio: Shikadai with Boruto immediately behind him, almost bumped into him as he turned.

“The feudal lord invites you to a formal breakfast at dawn tomorrow. _Don’t_ be late.” He said, glowering.

Shikadai nodded slowly, “I assumed he would want to greet us with an actual audience.”

“Indeed.”

Boruto looked up at the sentry, “We should get to sleep then. So we are awake for the Feudal Lord.” Sarada detected a cheeky, yet entirely disrespectful lilt in his voice that betrayed his exhaustion. She rolled her eyes at the back of his head.

The sentry’s annoyed glower deepened significantly, “Goodnight.” He said, voice dripping with finality, and quickly turned towards the main building, roughly half a mile from their low house. Shikadai bowed in polite valediction, and slid the screen door open, motioning for his comrades to follow.

The inside of the house was petite; a humble kitchen with a rickety table and three chairs that looked to be older than the first Ninja War. 3 doors were off of the kitchen, leading to a bathroom with a tiny shower, sink, and toilet, and two bedrooms. One single bed, child-sized, sat in its own room, and a double in the other that took up so much space there was barely room to walk. This was to be their home for the next week or so. _We may as well make the best of it._

“Well, I’m the captain so I get my own room.” Shikadai declared, beginning the conversation that all three of them were thinking of. He bolted towards the single room, leaving tangible bashfulness behind him.

“What!” Sarada exclaimed, hightailing it after him, “Why do I have to share with Boruto?” Her eyes grew wide, visibly embarrassed.

“No!” Boruto chimed in.

“I’m the only woman, I should get the single.” Sarada said, crossing her arms and looking away.

“Too bad.” Shikadai said, taking a seat on the meager bed, “You two have been teammates for years, you’re lying if you say you’ve never shared.”

Sarada frowned, but it didn’t last. _Never shared under these circumstances_ , Sarada thought. _But maybe I can force him to stop avoiding me._ The frown slipped off into neutrality, and she shrugged.

“Fine.” She said, making her way to the claustrophobic room. She dropped her bag on to the bed, shedding her quipao jacket “At least I can spread my legs out on this one.” Shikadai did not reply.

Boruto’s face flushed tomato-red as he watched his best friend undress out of the corner of his eye, but he quickly forced it back into an unbothered expression, unzipping his own gear and knocking his jacket to the floor.. Sarada was extremely aware of the motion of the mattress as Boruto carefully took his spot on the other side of the bed, laying with his back to her. Sarada lay down as close to the edge of the bed as she could without falling off, forcing a canyon between the two on the small bed.

This situation was not ideal. She noticed the smell of him, the familiar pine needles and sweat she so associated him with as it enveloped her. Despite the distance the pair had forced, she was hyper aware of how close he was to her. Sarada’s breathing quickened, as did her heartbeat. Of course, she had shared a bed with Boruto before. Throughout Sarada’s years as a shinobi, many missions had lead to her, Boruto, and Mitsuki laying top-to-toe next to each other in beds smaller than this one, as their Sensei had taken a bed to himself. And it had never bothered her, so why now? Why this bed? For some reason, tonight was different. Sarada clenched her eyes shut; Boruto’s infuriatingly naughty smile lighting up the backs of her eyelids without her welcome. _Ugh_. They opened again to stare at the blank wall mere inches from her face. She wondered if he noticed her, too.

She peeked over her shoulder, attempting to be as stealthy as possible to steal a glance at her estranged friend. The old mattress betrayed her, squeaking with her movement. However, if Boruto was aware, he didn’t say anything. Sarada looked at him, noting the tension in the terrain of his back through the see-through light mesh undershirt. His muscles were taught-- masculine without being overt and aggressive way that others of their age-group were built. His build was for agility as opposed to strength. But it was obvious to her without a full glance that he was uncomfortable. Sarada had assisted her mother in the hospital enough times to recognize the signs of a man in pain. Subconsciously, she performed a mental inventory of his body, searching for injuries. His unreported injury came to her mind, and Sarada felt foolish for forgetting it in the first place. He was crunched around his wound protectively, she concluded. Then why was he shaking ever so slightly?

_If he wasn’t childishly ignoring me, I would be helping him right now._ Sarada thought, too stubborn to put Boruto’s confusing actions aside. Yet, something inside of her yearned to reach over pat his shoulder, or arm, or something to bring him a slice of comfort. _This is a distraction._ She thought. _You need to perform well tomorrow._

“Goodnight.” Shikadai called from the other room. Sarada did not respond, but tore her gaze away from the blonde and returned it to the wall in front of her.

***

It was approximately 5:30 A.M. The sun had barely broken the horizon when the trio awoke for their audience with the Feudal Lord. Groggily, Sarada dressed as quick as her sleepy body would allow, doing her best to preserve her modesty from Boruto. It was unnecessary, however, as he shut the bathroom door tightly, without saying a word to her or Shikadai. It only took about ten minutes for the group to prepare for their day, especially as they had no shinobi equipment (that could be seen by a prying eye) to holster, restock, or carry. They left the low house to view the beginning of what seemed to be a relatively nice day, and made their way to the large house in the center of the complex.

They had been ushered into the main house presumably by the Lord’s staff, who said little to the shinobi as a wide screen door was slid open. The main house on the complex was, in one word, ornate, without being ostentatious. Polished mahogany floors laden with plush rugs lead the way down a narrow hallway lined with cross-hatched wooden verandas on either side to a traditional reception room. The room itself, soft tatami flooring lit by a large round window and pale green colouring across all of the walls, was nondescript. However, seated in the center of a long, low table was a man that could be no one but the Feudal Lord. He wore a deep plum colored kimono in a display of casual authority. His long black hair was held back in a low ponytail, allowing the expression of his face to display more of a friendly demeanor as opposed to the neutral displeasure the group of shinobi had been expecting.

Seated to the left of the Feudal Lord was an older girl, probably no older than 18. Her own kimono betrayed her station, and it was clear that this was the girl they had been sent to protect. Shikadai and Sarada moved to bow, quickly followed by Boruto. The Feudal Lord gestured for the trio to sit at the three prepared cushions across from him. Sarada moved to sit immediately across from the Lord, beginning her crouch when Shikadai coughed ever so slightly. Her face flushed gently, and she sat back to his right side, instead sitting across from the girl with the silken kimono.

“Leave us.” The Lord declared and the staff members quickly bowed and left the room, “Machiko, the tea.” He said, a much softer voice. The girl picked up the teapot and carefully poured their three guests each a cup, her hands extremely poised, no shaking to be detected.

“Good morning.” He said again, greeting the guests that sat ahead of him.

Shikadai nodded once in proper salutation, “We apologize for our late arrival yesterday, but we encountered a combatant on our way in. He was swiftly taken care of.”

“So I heard.” The Feudal Lord retorted and paused, “This is Machiko, my daughter.”

At this, Machiko smiled sweetly and bowed her head, “I appreciate all of your work so far” She said, a much stronger voice than Sarada had expected to come from the girl.

“Where should we get started?” Shikadai said, taking a deep drink of his tea. A slight _ah_ left his lips after he swallowed.

“One of you should be with my Machiko at all times when she is not in her own quarters. Perhaps the other two should investigate the most recent attack site?” The Lord said. Sarada noted that his question was more of a direction than anything else. She would have never allowed an outside to take control of _her_ mission.

“I will be heading the investigation.” Shikadai declared.

Sarada nodded, “He is the most knowledgeable on The Dragon. I would like to accompany him,” She chimed in.

The Feudal Lord’s face turned down ever so slightly, “I would prefer the Uchiha to stay with Machiko for now.” He said, addressing Shikadai.

Sarada felt her eye twitch slightly, but controlled it before anyone could notice. One of the biggest areas of annoyance Sarada had ever had to face was when men would talk over her, or about her, but not to her. Unfortunately, she could already tell that the Feudal Lord was going to be one of these men. She folded her hands in front of her in frustration, but kept her lips tight together.

Shikadai nodded again, “That will work. Boruto and I will begin our investigations following this breakfast.”

Sarada’s anger began to bubble in the pit of her stomach. Her suspicion had been affimed: Shikadai was not an excellent captain for this mission. Her talents were suited far more for investigating and tracking as opposed to simple bodyguard duty-- and Shikadai _knew_ this. Yet, he said nothing. She glanced at her client for the day, and was surprised to find Machiko looking back at her. Machiko’s dark green eyes softened as their gazes met, and Sarada forced a small smile. Her hands remained folded ahead of her, and she began gripping them together in frustration-- so hard her knuckles whitened.

“Excellent. I look forward to our _partnership_.” The Feudal Lord said, placing strong emphasis on his final word. He looked to the meal laid ahead of him, and dug in, signaling to the trio that they may follow.

***

Boruto and Shikadai promptly departed for a tiny community of farmers that could barely be classified as a town at the conclusion of breakfast. The community was a few miles out from the Feudal Lord’s complex-- easy to reach within an hour. Luckily for the young ninja, the weather was favorable as they walked along the path to their destination. They both wore their civilian clothing: Shikadai in a navy double breasted casual jacket buttoned from his neck to his waist. His mother’s red sash, a gift on his promotion to Chuunin, tied casually around his waist, with straight dark pants underneath. Boruto in his typical black jacket, zipped to the chin without any shinobi markings.

A sweet breeze rustled through the trees as the pair walked. The tangible silence between the two as their only background noise was the rustling of the leaves in the wind, the steady _plop, plop_ of their feet on the path, and the occasional bird’s caw as it flew by. They must have been walking for only five minutes of silence before Boruto got sick of it.

“Shikadai, what the fuck.” He said, blunt and to the point.

Shikadai sighed deeply, ready for the barrage of conversation Boruto was going to force upon him and turned to his friend, “What?”

“What game are you playing at with forcing me and Sarada to share a bed? After everything I told you.” Boruto exclaimed, voice dripping with annoyance.

Shikadai shrugged, and threw his arms behind his head, “Direct action.”

Boruto gaped, “Are you kidding me?”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding her either. You’re acting like a child.” Shikadai said, diverging the topic at hand.

“Excuse me?”

Shikadai scoffed, “You won’t even look at her.” He sighed, and continued. “She’s the smartest ninja of our class, and if I noticed, then she did too. You’re probably making her feel like shit.”

Boruto stopped in his tracks abruptly. Shikadai would never understand the fear and the pain that tormented Boruto when he looked in her eyes-- all he could see was the terrified, pain drenched gaze of his oldest friend as she clutched his head in her lap, begging him to live. A gaze that was all his fault-- a gaze he never wanted to see again. He had never considered that Sarada would care one way or another if he made conversation with her or not.

“One mission mistake, one sex dream, neither are good reasons to mess with the success of the mission we have _right now_.” Shikadai said before Boruto could get a word in.

“Yeah, I got it. You said that before.” Boruto said, rolling his eyes.

“Then fucking listen to me, maybe?” Shikadai quipped.

“Maybe I should talk to her.” Boruto said, looking away from his friend. As painful as the prospect would be, he did value her, after all. And they would be on this mission for however long together, with no real place for Boruto to escape and hide to. Shikadai made sure of that, _Bastard probably did that on purpose._

“Direct action,” Shikadai repeated, satisfied with himself. A crow flew by, a loud caw escaping his beak as he fluttered to land at the dirt ahead of them, pecking absentmindedly at the grass.

The pair walked on in silence for a while before Boruto piped up again, “Okay boss, what should I specifically be looking for?”

Shikadai shot him a sideways glance, his strong eyebrows dipping over the teal eyes of his mother. “You just do not read mission briefings, do you?”

“I scan them!” He exclaimed, “I can get the mission going and finished much quicker if I don’t have to slog through pages of useless information.”

“It’s not useless.” Shikadai said, “Look for signs of combat. There has been a recent abduction around here, so we should figure out if there was a struggle. If so, we look for type of combat. Kunai, shuriken, anything that marks shinobi involvement. Let me know if you see anything that looks like lightning marks.”

“That was much quicker than reading a report.” Boruto smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I head-canon that Boruto inherited Hinata's full faced blush. SO I write him that way. Shikadai's outfit was inspired by a drawing I saw done by trubwlsum that I fell in love with. I like to bring out more of his mom's side so that I don't have to write a carbon copy of Shikamaru. 
> 
> This chapter was BEYOND hard to write and I have actually no idea why. I wasn't entirely sure if I should end it where I did, or add the next part to this chapter, but I decided I wanted to give y'all some new content because I've been absent for so long. As always, your comments and kudos keep me going. If you have any reviews too, I love feedback in general. I hope you will keep reading! 
> 
> Thank you <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies! So sorry about the delay! I've been traveling abroad quite a bit and didn't bring my laptop, so I've been itching to work on this for awhile. I only got back 2 days ago! Anyway, to make up for lost time, this is a double-length chapter. Hopefully you enjoy it!

The midday sun beat down on Boruto and Shikadai’s backs as they worked their way through the farm community on the border between Fire and River country. Shikadai, carrying a notebook and pen to take detailed notes, wandered ahead of Boruto. There did not seem to be an excess of people around, noting that most of the small, wooden houses had their slat blinds closed tightly shut, paired with relatively empty fields behind the houses. Even the dusty path ahead of them looked to be less traveled than it should. Something caught Boruto’s eye, quick and subtle, but worth note.Boruto leaned down, looking at a ding in a tree that looked out of place and intentional. It looked to be a pattern, at the very base of the tree-- almost at the root. Four dashes together, building a shape like a off-kilter tic-tac-toe board but if you weren’t looking you would have missed it. 

“Shikadai, look at this.” He called to his friend. Shikadai dropped back, his gaze following Boruto’s outstretched finger. He leaned down, touching the mark. 

“Feels recent. Deep enough to be a kunai mark. Definitely intentional” He said. He stood up and sketched a picture of it in the notebook, pinpointing the location as well. 

“It looks familiar. I don’t know why.” Boruto said, watching the quick movements of Shikadai’s pen to the paper. Shikadai nodded quickly, and returned to the path ahead. It was so Shikadai-- when his head was at work, the people fell away. Boruto could almost see the cogs working in his head, watching his hands play with the maroon scarf around his waist absentmindedly. 

“According to the briefing, the most recent kidnapping has been from a sheep farm up this path.” Shikadai announced, motioning for Boruto to hurry up. Boruto complied, jogging to meet him. Once they were together, they made their way up to the sheep farm quickly. Just as the other houses, there was no sign of life on the outside. One or two sheep milled about outdoors, but not enough to dub the place as a “sheep farm”. Boruto frowned.

“Keep your eyes open.” Shikadai said quietly. Boruto nodded once slowing down to take in the area. The grass beside the house leading towards the back looked like it was on its way to death, and certainly did not match the remainder of the lush carpet of green between the fences. Shikadai kneeled, grabbing a sample of the grass and tucking it in his jacket, pen whirring against the paper. Boruto made his way up to the door of the house, running his hands along the exterior. A knick in the wooden frame near the doorknob made Boruto narrow his eyes. Forced entry. He pushed on the door, feeling no resistance as it clicked open. He entered, feeling an immediate chill about the room raise the hairs on his arms.

“Shikadai!” He hissed. His friend joined him, entering the house carefully.

The house showed clear signs of a struggle. Furniture thrown about in mismatched ways, loose papers strewn messily. A lamp in the corner was turned over unceremoniously. A framed photograph had fallen off of the wall, broken glass and bits of the crushed frame scattered on the floor. The blinds, matching the other houses, were closed tightly, the only source of light in the room was streaming in through the opened door. 

Shikadai zeroed in on a sour clump of … _something_ laying on the ground by the entrance to the kitchen. Dried blood of undetermined origin stained the floor. He moved to the spot, bending to scrape a sample into a small vial, before moving on to the mystery clump. He probed it carefully, watching it move. It was dark brown, about the width of Shikadai’s wrist, and ribbed. Roughly 4 inches made up the clump-- not large enough to identify. Shikadai flipped it over, suddenly coming to identifying it in disgust. 

“This is part of a human intestine.” He said, dropping it quickly and wiping his hands off. 

“Fuck.” Boruto exhaled, “Maybe it was left on purpose.”

“I don’t know. We need to get these notes and samples back to the village as soon as possible. Something tells me this mission is going to be a little more than just political.” Shikadai said as he ripped several pages out of his notebook. He wrapped them all into a little package, coupled with the remaining evidence that needed testing. 

Boruto summoned a shadow clone quickly, “Give it to me.” He said. Shikadai handed the package to him, “I’ll take it there myself.” He said.

Shikadai nodded, “Tell the lab workers that it needs testing ASAP. Things just got far more interesting.”

 

***

 

“So, Uchiha-san.” Machiko started, her eyes wide with wonder, “how can you handle being bossed around by all of these people?” she asked, a sly grin playing on her delicate features. 

Sarada stiffened. The pair were in a private garden: Sarada standing guard at the tall shrubbery that marked the entrance, Machiko leaning and tending to her small plot of herbs and flowers. Sarada had identified some of her plants from her mother’s own supply: feverfew, ginger root, valerian. She was surprised to learn that such a high status girl would trouble herself with such common work-- and even more surprised when Machiko shed the fancy silks that she had worn at breakfast and instead donned a pair of orange leggings and a cream-toned tunic, hiking her long hair into a knot above her head. She had dismissed all of her servants for that day. Sarada had prepared for a busy day full of tasks suitable for someone of Machiko’s status; music lessons, dance lessons, hearing the complaints of different merchants as they set up for the upcoming A-list event. But for her to be asking such a loaded question? Sarada was unprepared. 

“Uh…” She started, figuring out the best approach to such a question as to not offend. “I follow my orders. It doesn’t matter who they come from.”

Machiko inclined her head coyly, plucking a flower off of a patch of chamomile, “Surely you disagree with those orders sometimes?” 

Sarada’s thoughts turned immediately to being shunned as a captain for her mission. Sure, she completely disagreed with the Hokage-- but she knew she had no place to start a fight with someone so high above her. Shikadai was… often put above her. He was the child of genius, and by all rights so was Sarada, but Shikadai had gotten lucky in too many situations. She remembered when he was promoted above her, and the pang of disappointment that echoed in her chest when she first found out. She’d passed it off to his gender; Shikadai was equal to her in intelligence, and ninjutsu. She was better than him in genjutsu, and he was excellent at long-range and tracking. However, he was a man, and she was a kunoichi. More was expected from her. Sarada knew that she was a hard worker, she’d sacrificed nights of fun, weeks of time off-duty to get to the point where she was now. And if she was to get her next promotion, well, that meant listening to the Hokage regardless of her personal opinions. 

“To reach your goals, sometimes you have to make yourself quiet in order to be heard.” She said. Machiko lowered her gaze, gathering the sprigs she had collected into a small basket. 

“I get sick of being told what to do. I don’t like being a pawn in my father’s politics.” She said with a voice drenched in determination, “This Debutante Ball, this isn’t even about me.”  
Sarada turned to face Machiko, “What do you mean?”

Machiko huffed, “It’s all political. It’s about showing off how much power my father has, trying to get other people to buy into the power. It definitely isn't about me ‘coming of age’ or whatever tagline he’s pinning to it.”

Sarada was surprised yet again by the girl she was protecting. She’d guarded political figures and their families before, but never had she encountered someone so outspoken. Sarada said nothing, but looked to the ground. Machiko stood, brushing the dirt from her leggings and hoisting the basket over her arm. She smiled broadly, showing off two puckered dimples in the sides of her face.

“Uchiha-san, I want to show you something.” She said, leaving the gardens without a second thought. 

Sarada followed her, closing the small gate to the private garden behind her. Machiko walked straight through the formal courtyard at the back of the house disregarding any pathway to reach her destination. Sarada only stopped when she noticed Machiko headed straight for the forest line.

“Machiko-san, I’m not sure you’re supposed to go back here.” She called.

Machiko waved a hand to dismiss her, “Who’s going to stop me? The servants? I know you’re not going to.” She called back, a trill in her voice. Sarada shrugged, and continued to follow. They made their way through the green brush, walking over roots, felled branches, even small shrubs. Wherever Machiko was off to, it was almost as far from the beaten path as possible.

Eventually, the pair came to a circular clearing ringed by dense pine trees. A tranquil pond sat in the center with a large willow tree dangling over it. The sun shined against the water of the pond, lining up almost exactly with the center of it. Wildflowers filled the open space, their scent drifting into Sarada’s nose almost flirtatiously. She couldn’t deny that it was beautiful.

“Finally! Machiko said, dropping her basket and launching herself up onto a large branch of the willow tree that dangled over the water. 

“This is very pretty,” Sarada started, “How did you find it?”

Machiko winked, “I have to make my own fun around here. It’s my secret.”

“I see.”

A beat. Machiko kicked off her shoes and dipped her toes into the water. In the hot afternoon sun, Sarada wanted to do the same-- but it would not be appropriate.

“Say, Uchiha-san.” Machiko piped up, “Have you ever disappointed someone? Someone important?” She looked down, watching the ripples around her toes. 

Sarada stiffened, mind flashing back to the muddy, bloody mess that was their last mission outcome. Though, the Hokage would not know that she was a disappointment; she lied to him about their injuries. Guilt seeped into her stomach before she answered, “I’m sure I have at some point. Why?”  
“I think failure is a myth. No one really fails themselves. But it’s all in the perception of others.”

“Hn. I disagree.” Sarada said gruffly. 

Machiko looked at Sarada curiously, “I’ve been very forthcoming with you. I hope you can trust me, too.” 

Sarada was too busy deciphering Machiko’s meaning to wonder why she had asked such a question. 

 

***

 

That evening, Boruto and Sarada both pretended the other did not exist. Staring hard at the wall ahead of her, Sarada’s conversation with Machiko pounded in her ears. That mission… was a failure to Sarada, even if it wasn’t classified as one. Looking back on it, she could identify roughly six ways that she could have adapted, improved the outcome. Six ways at minimum that could have saved Boruto from injury. Six ways that could have had Sarada positioned as a shoe in for her next promotion. 

Sarada sighed deeply as anxiety began to prickle at the base of her skull. She would spiral if she wasn’t careful; jumping from one failure to a failure in her career and a loss of all of her time and effort since she graduated the academy. She tried, only succeeding slightly to brush those thoughts from her head. She clenched her eyes shut, relaxed her jaw, released the tension in her hips; trying to focus on falling asleep instead. Though sleep did eventually come, it was not restful.

 

_Rain splashing on water. The sound of frogs chirping. Humid, cooling nighttime air hung around them heavily. Boruto and Sarada hid silently, breathlessly, covered in mud and leaves. Boruto perched high above on a branch of a tree, camouflaged to the best of his ability. Sarada below, ready to pounce. They were so close, they could taste it. It had been approximately 26 days and 13 hours since their mission had begun, they were hungry, sleep deprived, and hadn’t had a real shower since the beginning of the mission. Their sacrifices were beginning to pay off; finally, they had found the gang rumored to be hiding the missing nin._

_Not only this, but they were going to fight. They found the opening of the cave the gang used as a base of operations, and they laid their trap eagerly. Studying their movements for days on end, Sarada came up with a detailed plan; Mitsuki would be keeping watch at the feeder camp a few miles away on the event that someone escaped. She and Boruto would take point, waiting for the marked time of the night that the gang departed for their various places in the village. Such was the pattern._

_Footsteps sounded from the inside of the cave— one of their marks was coming. Sarada glanced up at where she knew Boruto was; they were so accustomed to working together, an indisputably cohesive team that all it took was a flick of her eye. First right, then up, then right once more. Boruto blinked twice in response, speaking their secret language fluently. Signal received. Boruto leapt silently from branch to branch, getting as close to the cave entrance quickly and quietly. As expected, a man emerged from the cracks in the rocks that marked the missing nin gang base. He was stout but fit, a splash of purple hair around his head. Much younger than the main target of the mission. So they weren’t going to make this easy._

_A slight crackling noise coupled with the smell of atmosphere told Sarada that Boruto had readied an electric rasengan, leaping from above and slamming the ball of pure chakra into the poor man’s chest. Sarada watched as the man’s eyes widened, and then shut tight as the impact threw him into a tree nearby. Boruto rushed back to his body, slamming a palm forcefully into his chakra center, ensuring that he was out for the count until they could take him into custody._

_The nondescript sound of brambles snapping off to their right alerted Sarada of someone else’s presence. She quickly activated her sharingan, eyes glowing faintly red in the night. She caught a look at the hidden assailant— boorishly tall with a plethora of uncontrolled chakra, hurtling extremely fast, faster than any scouting accounted for, at the distracted body of her comrade. Fuck. Sarada lunged after him, tracing his movements carefully. Was he aware she knew he was coming? A kunai whistled through the air, Sarada barely had time to readjust to avoid major damage before it hit, nicking a cut into the very side of Sarada’s arm. That answered that question. The assailant was midair, Sarada mimicked his movements as quickly as she could, blocking a second kunai with one of her own. He weaved his hand signs quickly, covering as best as he could to avoid Sarada’s identification._

_A shuriken circled out of nowhere, Sarada broke her focus on the assailant to avoid it. Boruto leapt to defend, knocking it away with a shuriken of his own. He quickly summoned a shadow clone to incapacitate the red herring of a target he’d already assumed disabled. As soon as her gaze flicked half of a second away from the bulky missing nin, he grinned sadistically, all teeth and bloody gums. Flame coloured chakra completely engulfed his arm, from fingertips to shoulder blade in a jutsu Sarada had not encountered. The purple headed man dissipated in a cloud of mist, and appearing in the exact location of the bulky one._

_“BORUTO” Sarada screamed, trying her best to warn him of the danger incoming, throwing their cover to the wind. However, before Boruto had a chance to respond, the bulky missing nin had sunk his hand into the soft of Boruto’s stomach, twisting elbow deep. Boruto fell to the ground, surprise inked deep into his face as blood forced itself out of his mouth._

_Sarada saw red. She smelled the metallic tang of Boruto’s blood pooling on the dank ground, saw the sticky coating of Boruto’s blood on the arm of their mark. And she lost all sense of composure and mission etiquette. She stretched her chakra into her arms, and flew at the man. She launched a bone-breaking punch into the head of the man, knocking him onto the ground. Sarada screamed in fury, pinning the man down beneath her. He bucked, trying to throw her off, but Sarada did not relent. She slammed another punch into his skull, hearing the popping of the cartilage in his nose breaking off of his skull. Another punch, cracking the bones in his brow. Another, knocking teeth from his mouth and removing part of his tongue . Another, for good measure. She continued to beat the bloody pulp of his face in bleeding fury, refusing to let up until his face no longer resembled that of a human. She breathed heavily and deactivated her sharingan. A rough sob ripped through her as she took in her handiwork. She quickly remembered her friend, crawling off of the man and towards Boruto’s limp body in the brambles. The smell of the blood mixed with the rain turning into a metallic swamp, as she took in the deep red rushing from his abdomen._

_She dropped her weapons once she reached his body, kneeling next to him protectively. The other nin was not around, either had ran in fear of Sarada’s rage or had decided to retreat. Either way, save for the mangled corpse of their mission mark, they were alone._

_“BORUTO!” She screamed in his face. She picked up his head and dragged him to her lap. Ripping off a bandage from her leg, she wrapped it feverishly around Boruto’s stomach, but it did not stop the spread. Those first bandages were soaked in his blood quickly, and she feverishly wrapped him a second, third, and fourth time._

_“Boruto… you idiot, you’re so annoying!” She sobbed, moving his wet hair off of his forehead. She placed her hands on his forehead, desperately trying to transfer what little chakra she had left to him. But his eyes would not open._

_“Don’t die, you stupid idiot!” Sarada sobbed, “You can’t die!”_

_By now, Boruto’s blood stained the fifth layer of bandages Sarada wrapped around his midriff. She ripped the bottom of her shirt into strips to pad the bandages already present, but it did little to ebb the blood flow. Sarada felt his heartbeat growing more and more faint as she cradled the blonde’s head in her lap as though this would save his life._

_“Where is Mitsuki?” She screamed, at no one in particular. But of course, she knew where Mitsuki was. She ripped through Boruto’s pack, shooting a flare into the sky to signal that it was an emergency, desperately calling Mitsuki to their location. She just needed Boruto to hold on for another hour, and he would be okay. She hoped._

_“You promised me!” Sarada’s voice broke, as her tears fell freely, mixing with the rain splashing on to Boruto’s unconscious face. She cried, screaming into the sky and wishing she had enough strength for the both of them. She poured all of the chakra that remained in her into his limp body, thoroughly exhausting herself._

_“Sara...chan” he coughed. Sarada’s head immediately snapped back to him, “Sara-chan is that you?”_

_Sarada gasped, and hushed him, but as per usual he did not listen. God dammit, why did he never listen?_

_“Sara-chan, what happened?” He asked quietly._

_“Boruto! You can’t die…” She cried, pulling him closer._

_“I can’t die,” He agreed with a meek smile. He tried to sit up, but winced and grasped his wound. He collapsed back into the lap of his friend._

_“Don’t move!” Sarada commanded._

_“It’s okay, Sara-Chan.” Boruto said calmly. He lifted one hand slowly and grasped her face with it, “If I’m supposed to protect you forever, I can’t die.”_

_Sarada said nothing, but gripped his hand to her and cried harder. He smiled at her again, and fell unconscious. Sarada’s tears dug trenches into her cheeks as she kept track of his pulse beneath her fingers. Boruto had made so many promises, not just to her but to all of their friends. He had so much vitality, so much light to shine on the world. There was no way she could sit back and allow him to die, not like this. Sarada sobbed at no one, this was her fault. She had fucked up her very first mission as captain, and it was going to cost her the life of her oldest friend. This was her fault. She began to shake as the rain came down harder. Hold on just a little longer, please._

_“Sarada— oh.” Mitsuki said, coming to a halt next to her. He rushed to Boruto’s side, “how did this happen?”_

_Sarada swallowed, “the assailant ... made his hand into some sort of chakra blade, I think... Blunt force trauma, I assume, broke a few of his ribs and the ‘blade’ gave him the gash.” She could barely force the words out._

_Mitsuki nodded, “did you—“_

_Sarada interrupted “I did everything I could. I drained my chakra. I ripped up my fucking shirt to try and stop the bleeding.”_

_“Hold him for me.” Was all Mitsuki said, as he stretched his hands over Boruto’s wound. With a gentle green glow, Mitsuki closed his eyes and got to work._

_“Mitsuki, this is my fault.” Sarada croaked. Mitsuki said nothing, continuing to use his chakra to close what he could of the wound. After what felt like 10 minutes, or 10 hours, Mitsuki’s hands ceased to glow and he opened his eyes._

_“I’ve managed to bring the abdominal aorta back together to stop a lot of bleeding, but I can’t do much of the rest of the job here. We need to get him to a safe place where I can do a real job on him. He might…” Mitsuki trailed off, catching Sarada’s eye, “He’s hurt. Bad. But you know him.” He placed a hand over Sarada’s, attempting to comfort her in his own way._

_“He’s stronger than everyone, Sarada.”_

Sarada’s eyes snapped open, her heart racing in her chest. Reliving that night… it was the last thing she wanted. She felt the anxious sweat plaster her hair to her forehead, and she sat up softly, trying her best to disturb her teammate as little as she could. But to her surprise, the body she was so familiar with was not laying next to her in this scratchy old bed. She was alone. Her mind flashed back to the smell of his fresh wound in the mud.

_My fault._ The words pounded in her head like the beat of an unwelcome drum

She wanted—no, needed—to talk to Boruto. And if she had to take matters into her own hands, to force some answers from him, so be it. 

 

***

 

Boruto heard the telltale squeak that alerted him of the screen door sliding open. He shifted his position in the grass, leaning up on his hands to see who had exited the house. He caught a glimpse of Sarada: her always-neat hair was ruffled from bed, her eyes behind her glasses sleepy and sweet, her face painted in an earnest expression as she was clearly searching for him. Boruto laid back, turning his eyes back to the stars above. She quietly took a seat next to him, crossing her legs and tucking them close to her body. Her presence made the night feel just a little bit warmer.

They said nothing to each other. He glanced at her face, her head thrown back and eyes focusing on the night sky that went on for miles. She appeared deep in thought-- her lips sucked together ever so slightly in an expression Boruto was more than familiar with. To him, her mannerisms were more familiar than his own. However, Boruto didn’t have an inkling of an idea about what she was thinking of. 

_Direct action_. The words reverberated in his mind, internal dialogue turning into the deadpan tone of his friend. Boruto took a deep breath. And he spoke.

“The stars are beautiful this far away from the village. There are so many more than I’m used to.” He said, keeping his voice soft.

Sarada turned to him and studied his face. Her eyes probed him carefully, calculating every outcome before saying anything. After a beat, she must have been satisfied, “Yes. Can you believe it wasn’t so long ago when shinobi were taught to navigate with the stars only?” She responded, her own tone matching his. 

“Doesn’t sound like a reliable resource to me.” Boruto said, glancing at the heavens.

“The stars are a constant. They don’t move from their spots.” She said, scoffing ever so slightly.

“What about clouds?” 

“What _about_ clouds?”

Boruto stopped and locked on to her face again. Her eyes were steely, and Boruto knew she wasn’t saying what she wanted to say, “Sara-chan…” he said, trailing off to allow her to pick up exactly where she wanted to.

“You have some audacity calling me that after avoiding me for almost two weeks.” And there it was. Boruto had to force himself to not wince as he heard all of the softness of her voice drain. 

There were a million things he wanted to say. _I’m sorry,_ for one. _You’re right, I was a dick,_ for another. He wanted to tell her all about his shitty dreams and the fact that he had only slept well one time since they had returned from the mission that changed everything. He wanted to reach out, to hug her, and promise her that he would do better. But instead, all he could muster was, “It’s not like that.”

“ _It’s not like that!_ ” Sarada spluttered, “Then what exactly _is_ it like? 

Where would he begin? He straightened up, one hand rubbing his brow intently, “Well, after that mission…”

Sarada looked at him expectantly. 

“I don’t know. I can’t sleep.” Was all he said.

She frowned, “What does that have to do with you ignoring that I exist?”

“It has everything to do with that!” Boruto quipped, leaping to his feet. Sarada followed suit, crossing her arms defiantly.

“We’re supposed to be friends!” She responded, matching his tone. Though she was much shorter than him, her personality made her tall in Boruto’s eyes. 

“We are friends you know!” Boruto’s tone harshening, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

Sarada’s eyes shut in annoyance, “Friends don’t ignore each other when they need each other.” She turned dramatically to make a beeline back to the house.

“Sarada!” Boruto called, but Sarada wouldn’t turn to face him.   
She slid the door back, the loud creak grating on her ears and returned to the bedroom she’d been in before. Boruto followed her, quick at her heels. 

She dropped onto the bed, facing back at the wall on her side. Boruto closed the door behind them, “You’re being unreasonable!” He urged. 

“Please.” She scoffed, “We had the _worst_ mission of our lives. You almost died, Boruto!” She threw her hands up in defeat, “And your response is to ignore me? Ignore what happened? Yeah, I’m unreasonable.”

Boruto’s mouth fell open. He had not considered this point of view at any time. He carefully sat on to the old bed next to her, crossing his legs.

“I almost died, Sarada.” He repeated quietly.

“Yeah, I know.” Sarada said. Was Boruto imagining it, or was there a slight shake in her voice? “And it’s my _fucking_ fault. Everything we’ve worked for could be gone and it’s all my fault.” 

Boruto took a deep breath and gently embraced Sarada.

“Boruto, I...” She trailed off, feebly trying to push his arms away. 

“Sarada,” he sighed, “Please just let me, okay?” 

She went limp as he wrapped his arms around her. She fell into his chest, her warm body pressing against him gently. He tucked her head under his chin and stayed there. He couldn’t imagine how she had been feeling, how she had been stressing and anguishing over him and their mission and her future. He knew her well enough to know she overthought every little detail, a fact that aided her in combat in most circumstances. Meanwhile, he had been too busy worrying about himself to notice. He nuzzled his nose against the top of her head, inhaling the deep smell of jasmine and ylang ylang that always accompanied her. He owed it to her to do better. He took a deep breath, gathering the courage to say the words he needed to say. 

“I was avoiding you because I was ashamed.” He whispered into her hair. 

Sarada broke away from him and looked up confused, “Excuse me?”

Boruto averted his eyes, “I blamed myself. It was my fault, not yours. I fucked up, I could have done better. Should have.” 

Sarada remained silent, mouth falling ever so slightly agape at the comment. 

“I just... I keep imagining what would have happened if it was reversed. If I let you... I’m supposed to keep you safe at all costs.”

“Boruto, you idiot.” Sarada said softly, hugging him close to her once more, “I don’t need anyone to protect me.” 

“I—“ Boruto began, feeling the soft form of Sarada press against him, her turn to be the comforting one. “I know.”

They said nothing else to each other that night. Boruto wrapped around her, enjoying the warmth radiating off of her. Something so small as to have Sarada stretching up to try and wrap her own arms around his calmed his churning stomach better than any medicinal remedy. He looked down at her, this small, immensely strong woman with a fighting spirit greater than anyone he’d ever met laying next to him. Her eyes looked at nothing in particular, but he wanted them to be looking at him. 

His fingers absentmindedly tangling in her hair, playing with a loose lock as he waited for Sarada to nod off to sleep. He felt her small hand against his back relax, heard her breathing deepen, signaling her descent to slumber. He laid completely still, not wanting to disturb her as he listened in for her heartbeat. 

In the stillness of the night, in the closeness of the bed, Boruto became acutely aware that he could not tell where his heartbeat ended and hers began. And he listened to it intently, the soft _thump thump, thump thump_ letting him know that they were both alive, and they were here. Together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it! Sarada's version of their disaster mission, some fluffy goodness... more is coming. As always, I love all kudos, comments, and constructive criticism. Please be vocal! I literally read all of your comments and it encourages me to go on. If you think I'm writing them too OOC, tell me! If you are just really enjoying it, tell me! If you wish I'd hurry up and stick to a damn writing schedule, tell me! You get the drift.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you are having a wonderful day, and thank you so much for reading!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! It has been a really long time since I updated, and I'm really sorry about that. I probably mentioned before I just started my first grown-up job, and I've barely adjusted to the time and energy that consumes on a daily basis. I do a lot of writing in my job, so when I get home I'm BARELY motivated to keep writing. But I haven't forgotten about this fic! I have several chapters way ahead written right now and I'm just trying to work my way there, which can sometimes be harder than writing new stuff in my opinion. 
> 
> I hope you all haven't forgotten about me and my BoruSara fic! And I hope you enjoy this chapter, if you're a returning reader or a newcomer.

Fire-golden light streamed through the shutters in the window, seeping into the sheets and tangled blankets and bathing Sarada in a warmth that felt fresh to her skin. Her eyes fluttered open, a content smile playing on her lips. Her civilian clothes were still on, wrinkled and poking her in weird places from her deep sleep. She moved to stretch, and suddenly felt the restriction of a pair of strong arms circling her shoulders and waist. Shy embarrassment washed over her as she remembered: these were Boruto’s arms, She fell asleep on Boruto’s chest. And there they remained throughout the night and on until morning.

She would have leapt up, she would have complained, and maybe she should have. But it embarrassed her even more to realize the soft embrace they were locked in felt intensely comfortable. Boruto was so familiar to her, and the warmth radiating from him was more than just skin level heat; it was a warmth she could feel deep within her bones. The kind of warmth one only felt when emotionally spent and comforted by the familiar laughter of a friend. Or the kind of warmth one only felt when returning home after a long journey. Sarada took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the smell of his hair, his skin, his clothes. He smelled like he always did: pine shampoo, and as close to a warm day as someone could possibly smell.  She would have happily stayed there, awake or asleep, for many more hours. If they weren’t on a mission, and if she had nothing to prove. 

But unfortunately, she  _ was _ on a mission. And the prospect of dilly-dallying in bed or oversleeping was not her priority. She had a job to do, and goddammit she was going to do it. 

_ But maybe after this mission is over… _ her brain wandered into completely uncharted territory. She roughly shook the thought from her head before the telltale feeling of blood pricking her cheeks took over.  _ Sarada, you have too much ambition for that,  _ she chided herself. 

Her mother’s face swam into her consciousness, building a memory for her to recall.

 

_ Sarada, until she finally met Sasuke, had never known her mother to not be the strongest woman in the world. To her, she was a superhero--she could take on any task, no matter how big or small. she could move mountains, and would do whatever she needed to do to give Sarada a good life. It had always been just the two of them; though her mother had told her stories of the mystery that was her father, shown her tattered old photographs of the man she’d inherited her dark hair and eyes from, Sarada had never known a life any differently. Though they had always bounced from apartment to apartment, Sarada had watched her mother take double shifts at the hospital. She watched her mother work herself to exhaustion, passing the young Sarada off to the Rokudaime or her aunt Ino, whoever could take her in order for her to take more shifts. Sakura didn’t know, but Sarada had always been watching. _

_ Sarada distinctly remembered hiding behind the cloak of Kakashi-sama one evening, one of her earliest memories: she was no older than three, as she saw her mother scramble into the Hokage’s office long after the sun had gone down. Her mother’s pink hair was messy and falling in front of her face, her lab coat wrinkled, and the bags under her eyes deeper than the child had ever seen them.  _

_ “Sakura, I don’t know why you keep doing this.” Kakashi-sama had said, voice dripping with sadness. He scooped Sarada up from behind him, offering the toddler to her mother. Her mother took the child and slung her over one of her hips. _

_ “Sensei, you know I don’t have any other options.” She said carefully. _

_ “You  _ do. _ ” Kakashi had urged, “You need to stop chasing him. Let me-- let all of us help you.” _

_ “I need to set the right example.” Sakura said with finality. Kakashi sighed, knowing his student was done with the topic. She turned on her heel, juggling her work and her toddler the best that she could as she made her way down the halls of the hokage complex and into the streets of Konoha. Sarada had fallen asleep on her mother on the way home, her glasses askew on her face and her baby black hair mussed up against her head.  _

_ When she awoke, the sky was still dark. Sarada had flung the pink bedding off of her tiny person, and went to search for her mother. She pushed the door to her bedroom open, dragging her favourite stuffed bunny behind her, and stumbled her way to the room she knew where her mother slept. But, the deep red bedding that covered her mother’s bed was undisturbed, and Sakura was nowhere to be found. Sarada wandered out as her search continued. Reaching the living area, her mother still was not around, and Sarada felt an unfamiliar fear bubble up and tears prick her eyes. Her rabbit hit the floor, and her legs ran into the kitchen, searching for any sign of her mother’s presence. She wasn’t cleaning the kitchen, wasn’t sitting at the solid wooden table, wasn’t crashed asleep on the couch. Tears welled up and fell against Sarada’s fat baby cheeks, her lower lip wobbling. Finally, she noticed the door to the balcony of their apartment was cracked, and wobbled over, rubbing her runny nose on the sleeve of her pajama shirt.  _

_ Sakura stood outside, a pile of letters on the balcony in front of her, a letter printed in red in her hand. A wine glass filled to the brim sat next to her, as she sighed into the night and wiped a tear from her own eyes. Sarada pushed the sliding door open with all of her might, alerting Sakura to her daughter’s presence.  _

_ “Mama!” Sarada cried, running to grab Sakura’s leg.  _

_ “Sara-chan, you should be asleep.” She said, covering her own vulnerabilities with a gentle smile. She dropped the letter back on to the pile ahead of her, and crouched to get on her daughter’s level. She wrapped the toddler into her arms, “Baby, you don’t need to cry.” _

_ Sarada whimpered, “I thought you were gone…” She said, her child’s voice chiming in her mother’s ears. Sarada looked up at the adult, and noticed the shine in her eyes, “Mama, why are you crying?”  _

_ “Oh,” Sakura said, and blinked away her tears. She looked to the stars, then back at her daughter’s deep eyes, “Sarada, you will be so strong that no one will ever doubt you.” She said quietly. Sakura tucked a chunk of Sarada’s black hair behind her ear, “You will be so independent that you need no one else’s help. I promise you.” _

_ That night had been the first time she’d ever seen her mother cry.  _

 

Sarada turned to face the light streaming into her face. She  _ would not  _ need anything from anyone except herself. Her mama had taught her that, and told her that the only person she really could rely on was herself. So, laying around with Boruto, as warm and comfortable as it felt, was a waste of time. She only needed herself.

She shook Boruto’s arms from her body, and moved to grab a fresh set of clothes for the day. 

 

***

 

“Naruto, wake up.” The gravelly voice of Shikamaru quipped. The sleeping blonde and orange form jolted awake, drool still wet in the corner of his mouth. Shikamaru shook his head, “Slept here last night again then. It stinks in here.”

Naruto yawned loudly and stretched his arms out above his head. He cracked his neck, then turned to Shikamaru with a sheepish grin, “You know these dossiers put me to sleep. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Good morning then,” Shikamaru said, grabbing an instant ramen container and tossing it into the trash bin. He tossed a manilla folder on to the organized chaos of Naruto’s desk, gesturing at it casually, “You need to assign teams for the upcoming recon. I’ve pre-screened them for you, so you can just stamp and approve.” 

“Aye aye.” Naruto said, scrambling for the rubber stamp in one of his desk drawers. He flipped the manilla folder open, revealing the mission assignment on the top. A quick scan, and he slammed the stamp on to the top of the page, revealing orange ink in the shape of a spiral. Shikamaru nodded, then slid a pile of mission requests with neon yellow markings on the covers to him.

“These all need stamps too. We’re going to backdate them in order to expedite the process. I’ll run them down to the messengers as soon as you get them done.”

“I got it.” Naruto said, slamming the stamps down without even a second glance. It took approximately 30 seconds for him to speed through the stack. 

“You in a hurry today?” Shikamaru asked, eyebrows raised at Naruto’s unusual haste.

“Something like that.” Naruto mused, turning around to face the sunrise streaming through his window. Almost as if on cue, the door to the Hokage’s office slammed open with a  noise akin to an explosion. Boruto, civilian clothes dirtied up from the run back to Konoha stood in the doorway breathing heavily. He held a crinkled brown package in his hands, labeled with Shikadai’s scrawling chicken scratch. Boruto wiped some sweat from his brow and tossed the package on to his father’s desk.

“This needs to be seen by the forensics team  _ as soon as possible. _ ” he grumbled. 

“Boruto!” The two men said in unison.

“ _ Please _ .” He added, looking between their faces, “The Daimyo mission is more than just political. We found a completely decimated house, with a chunk of  _ human intestine _ left behind. We need to figure out what caused the… explosion.” Boruto finished. He sighed, shoulders lifting and falling dramatically with his breath. 

Shikamaru moved to grab the package from the desk. He nodded once at Boruto, “We’ll send a runner as soon as the results come in.”

Boruto nodded, then dissipated into a cloud of smoke.

“Shadow clone, huh.” Naruto said quietly. 

“He had to learn it from someone.” Shikamaru smiled knowingly, and made his way to the still-open door. Naruto stood quickly.

“No, I’ll take it myself.” He said, holding his hand out for his senior chief to pass the package over. 

Shikamaru conceded, “I’m forging your signatures for you while I wait though.” he said, matter of factly. 

“I don’t know why you don’t just do that anyway.” Naruto said, grinning. With a sweep of his Hokage robes, he left, closing the door with him.

 

***

 

As Boruto, Shikadai and Sarada adjusted to the mission, the three comrades fell into a daily pattern. At daybreak, Sarada would go off to the main house to meet Machiko and report as her personal guard before the daily activities would commence (and the nightly lockdown would end). Shikadai and Boruto would dress and rise for the day on her departure, a list of different investigation sites and testimonies from previous days ready for cross examination in hand. The feudal lord would have simple meals run over to the flat house the trio shared every day, tailored to individual duties. At night, after Sarada returned post-lockdown, Shikadai and Boruto would make an effort to share their findings with Sarada, and run potential scenarios by her for her valuable input. They would sprawl out in the little space the low house provided, spreading the notes from wall to wall and sitting in what little room remained. 

When more yawns filled the space than words, they would retire to bed. Shikadai would yell goodnight to the others, and Boruto and Sarada would sleep back to back, feet tangled with legs and body heat shared between the two, but a distinct awkward rigidity preventing anything more. The contact, the gentle unintended touches and sleepy sighs were for now enough to stave away the nightmares. Frequently, however, Boruto would quietly leave the house, heading outside to practice his skills, be they kenjutsu, ninjutsu, taijutsu; he was more concerned with returning to his full strength than investigating political intrigue. 

Tonight was one of those nights. He waited patiently until he was sure Shikadai wouldn’t hear him leave, and slid out of bed. He knew exactly where his weapons were-- and grabbed them quietly, muffling the telltale  _ clank  _ of metal on metal with a spare shirt as not to wake Sarada. He padded across the floor quietly, silent as air, and made his way to the treeline at the back of the house. 

Once outside, he dropped his weapons unceremoniously into a soft patch of grass and dirt, the same place he’d drop it every other time he could not sleep. Bending to select a weapon of choice for the night, Boruto chose his Katana, a relic and gift from his Shisou.

He gripped the Katana loosely, feeling the weight and reveling in its return to his hand. He knew exactly how he was supposed to practice; harsh words from his Shisou’s training tactics swimming in his brain. 

_ Not too tight or you’ll lose an arm. Not like that, are you stupid? Just because your father was an idiot doesn’t mean you have to be.  _

Boruto straightened up, adjusting his form to the way he was taught. 

_ Stand like you’re proud of yourself. _

He spun the Katana with his wrist, loosening up his joints in preparation to strike. He brought both hands together in a flexible clasp, and raised the Katana over his head, bringing it down slowly, feeling out the balance in the sword. His jogan itched to be released, but that was too dangerous, too conspicuous. Taijutsu and kenjutsu only tonight. He took a deep breath, and sliced at a tree in front of him: once, twice, three times, and leapt back to inspect the damage. First slice was good- even. Second slice was too deep on one half, too shallow on another: no good in a real fight. Third slice could barely constitute a hit, and would have been easy to counter and knock the katana from his hands with poor chakra infusion like this. He sighed; he was rusty. Again. 

The tree bore 6 slices of varying depths and widths now, no consistency. Boruto’s face hardened into a scowl, as he leapt at the tree once more, pushing more chakra through the blade. The blade raised above his head and he slammed down the blade as hard as he could; but it was unwise. Pain from his abdomen billowed through his body, causing him to crouch over to protect the stomach. His sword dropped from his hands as they went to cradle his midriff defensively. 

“Boruto! Are you okay” Sarada’s all too familiar voice broke the night air around him as she ran up to him. How long had she been watching? How long had he not noticed her chakra signature nearby? Boruto plucked up his damaged ego to face her.

“Ah! Sarada!” He smiled sheepishly-- he knew he’d been caught, “I’m fine. Why are you awake?” He picked his body off the ground innocently, like a child caught in the middle of a wrongdoing. 

“I was never asleep.” She said pointedly, “Let me see your wound.” She reached at the hem of his shirt, attempting to reveal the scar tissue she knew was there.

“No!” He said, “It’s fine. Really. I’m fine!”

Sarada’s face remained doubtful, but she backed off, “What are you doing out here?”

“I, ah…” Boruto started, looking down at the ground, fists clenched, “I can’t stand the inaction. I have to get stronger, I have to keep growing. I can’t stop just because of a tiny injury.”

Sarada said nothing, but crossed her arms in front of her. Her friend looked up, making direct eye contact with her. 

“Spar with me,” Boruto said, the slightest hint of competition seeped in his eyes.

“Boruto...” Sarada responded, “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Again.”

“Please!” He bent down, retrieving the katana that had been absent from its home on his back for weeks now. He turned to face her, readying the sword between his hands.

“You’re annoying.” Sarada quipped, but followed suit, “I know all of your sequences; you can’t win.”

Boruto watched her closely as she grabbed a kunai from her pack and fell into a defensive stance.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you.” He grinned, “No sharingan, no jogan. Just good old-fashioned sparring.”

Sarada paused. He read the contemplation on her face with ease— he had seen the same look in battle and missions hundreds of times. He could see the exact moment she made up her mind too, before she even told him.

“Fine.” She decided, “but now I won’t go easy on you.”

Boruto felt a grin crack across his face at the returning spirit of his best friend, “I wouldn’t want you to.”

He leapt towards her. He tossed his sword into the air to move under it quickly, and slashed at where he knew Sarada’s weak spot would be. She flipped backwards, falling into a graceful handspring before shooting one, two, three kunai at him. He blocked the ammunition easily with his sword, twisting it in his grip before backing up.

He saw the same look of contemplation flash in her onyx eyes, the moon gleaming like slivers of fine jewelry against the backdrop.

Her eyes moved quickly, so much so that if it were anyone else they wouldn’t pick up on the subtleties. But Boruto knew her, he knew her mannerisms and the way she planned her every attack before launching, cautious until the end. She disappeared, a flicker of movement telling Boruto her path of movement. To his right, his left— he lifted the sword, preparing to strike her with his pommel on the right, knowing all of her combat tricks.

He swung and caught nothing as her leg crashed down on his sword from above the second after his swing. She anticipated; she reacted.

The sword hit the dirt with a soft thump and he ducked down to snag it, a low sweep of his leg as defense against Sarada’s threat. She leapt over it easily, clenching her fist into a tight ball and drawing it back. He knew what was coming-- she would accumulate her chakra into the one spot and attempt a one-hit knock out. Boruto abandoned the sword, leaping into a defensive stance with his dominant palm outstretched. She was fast, but he was faster, as he slammed his palm into her shoulder before her attack could gain the power it needed to do damage. 

She countered, taking advantage of the opening in his stance to kick at his torso. Boruto’s other palm connected firmly into her calf. He knocked the leg down easily.

Palm to fist, every connection resonating with a loud smack as the pair were locked in a series of blows. They were equals in combat, and both knew the other intensely well as to sense their movements before they were even made.  _ Smack, smack, smack _ as Sarada tried to outspeed the gentle fist technique passed on to him through his mother. Boruto smirked, he knew although Sarada may be smarter than him, he was undoubtedly quicker. 

Sarada scowled in response, and leapt backwards to reassess, “So annoying.”

“So you’ve said before.” Boruto laughed, and lunged at her as fast as he could. She couldn’t react before he got to her, there was no way. She didn’t move out from his offense, which was uncharacteristic.

“Gotcha.” She smiled angelically. As his body connected with hers, she took advantage of his lack of control and collected his limbs while she stood her ground without faltering. 

His breath caught in his throat as he looked over her winded form. Her hand gripped his right, another twisting his left arm behind him to restrain his movements, positioned to break the arm if need be. They stood chest to chest and she was rock solid, preventing him from utilizing his arms at all. He was trapped— if he kicked, she would use the momentum to rip his entire arm off. If he struggled, she could easily pin him down with two quick movements.

“I thought you’re supposed to be fast?” She said, looking him up and down and reveling in his defeat.

“I’m rusty.” He said, defeated grin playing on his lips as he struggled to catch his breath. The victory danced in her eyes like a wildfire. Even though they were no longer children, their rivalry for who belonged at the top would remain.

“Sounds like an excuse,” she teased. “Are you satisfied?”

“I guess you could say that.” A laugh forced its way between his lips. He could smell the sweat on her brow, mingling with the jasmine that followed wherever she went. The blood-flushed apples of her cheeks glistened, the hair on her forehead was plastered against her, tangling with the top of her glasses defiantly.

“I told you you wouldn’t beat me.” She said playfully, moving to release him from her grip.

Something within him stirred, begging him to pull her back to him. He tugged on the hand that had captured his dominant arm, spinning her back to him.

“Boruto?”

“Shh,” He shushed her. “Close your smart mouth for 3 seconds.”

Sarada’s brow flickered in confusion, irritation, and in something else he hadn’t seen on her before. Her eyes wide and expectant, her lips pouting towards him.

So he leaned in, ever so softly brushing his lips to hers. Boruto pulled back almost immediately, ending the whisper of a kiss as his common sense retook control.

Sarada’s round eyes stared up at him in shock. Boruto immediately let her free, and turned away.

“I should go.”

And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! We finally have a kiss! A not dream kiss! I just wanted to comment on Sarada's memory of her mother; I toyed with not including that but I think it fits well and helps explain some of Sarada's hesitation. I've also thought about a one-shot fic where I elaborate on Sarada's relationship with Kakashi. In my mind, he's more of a father figure to her than Sasuke ever was, he brought her to the hokage office (in my head this is what started her interest in being hokage in the first place, watching Kakashi) as a baby and watched her while Sakura was at work, he trained her and taught her his techniques. Idk, I know it's somewhat controversial to not worship Sasuke's ass these days (hahahabutreallytho) but I think it's more complex. Her relationship with her dad comes way after her early childhood in canon, but I think she needs somewhat of a male figure in her life. Let me know if y'all would be interested in reading something like that! I definitely have a WIP on my google drive rn haha.
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> Is anyone else LOVING the Boruto anime time travel arc? I'm so nostalgic! I especially love Boruto's interactions with Neji, and his talks one-on-one with Naruto. How do you feel?
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> As always, I welcome and love feedback. Please keep coming back whenever I get around to updating! You all (and my overactive imagination) are my motivation :)


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